Kindling St Elmo's Fire
by Alex Foster
Summary: While trying to make amends for her time at the Company, Elle uncovers a revenge plot involving former agents. The investigation takes her to memories of a past best left buried, a villain thought powerless, and ultimately back to Claire Bennet.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Kindling St. Elmo's Fire

Author: Alex Foster

Characters/Pairing: Claire/Gretchen/Elle

Category: Drama/Crime/Romance

Rating: R

Summary: While trying to make amends for her time at the Company, Elle uncovers a revenge plot involving former agents. The investigation takes her to memories of a past best left buried, a villain thought powerless, and ultimately back to Claire Bennet. Eventual Claire/Gretchen/Elle.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by NBC. No money is being made and no infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: This story, when fully posted, will mark my biggest Heroes fic to date. A lot of research and writing has gone in this monster. There are several themes and ideas I will touch on in later chapters that I have worked very hard to not only get right but treat respectfully. I have tried my best and I sincerely hope you will stick with me and agree. Thank you for reading.

…

…  
_  
It's been a prevalent notion. Fallen sparks. Fragments of vessels broken at the Creation. And someday, somehow, before the end, a gathering back to home. A messenger from the Kingdom, arriving at the last moment. But I tell you there is no such message, no such home - only the millions of last moments . . . nothing more. Our history is an aggregate of last moments._

— Thomas Pynchon (Gravity's Rainbow)

…

…

**Chapter One**

She remembered pain.

More than the fire, the confusion, the sure feeling of knowing her life was over, Elle Bishop remembered the pain that came afterward. Awareness had come back first, forcing her to leave behind that empty dark place, and then the pain hit.

It seared through everything and as soon as her vocal cords returned she pressed her burned skull back into the soft sand and screamed. Hands held her down, keeping her from thrashing around during the worst of it. In her daze, she thought it was _him_. That she hadn't died somehow and now he was going to finish the job.

Elle wanted to live.

Her power hadn't returned yet and neither had enough flesh and muscle to put up a fight. The person on top made soothing sounds and tried to comfort her.

Sight came back and she saw a familiar face hovering over hers. Her stomach flipped in response.

The pain faded as the childhood memories started to return—a fact neither woman had ever anticipated. Something buried deep inside, something dark, responded and rushed forward.

_I see you, Elle_._ All alone_.

She screamed again.

...  
...

Elle came awake with a start and bumped her knee on the car's steering column. She mumbled a curse and wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. The haze of sleep and the familiar nightmare were quickly fading as she blinked and took stock of her surroundings.

The sun had risen since she fell asleep and early morning commuters were starting to fill the streets of Baltimore. Across from the parking lot she'd pulled in several hours ago she could see joggers running through Patterson Park, earbud cords swinging wildly as they trotted along.

Elle glanced at the dashboard clock, worried that she was too late, and breathed a sigh of relief. If her target stuck to his normal routine then she was right on time. She gulped down cold bitter coffee from her thermos and grabbed the photo paperclipped to a file folder sitting open on the passenger seat.

She popped the sedan's door, threw her shoes down on the pavement, and stepped into them as she climbed out of the car. Joints popped as she stretched. It had been a while since she last did this sort of stakeout and had almost forgotten how unpleasant they felt first thing in the morning.

Running a hand back through her hair, she started across the street. Her hair was shorter these days and cut sharp along her collar—the result of nights of bad dreams and self-inflicted fried ends—and her clothes hung loose because she kept forgetting to eat.

Mania, Daddy would have said, was fine as long as you managed it.

Elle jaywalked just a little faster and turned her thoughts away from her dead father. She knew it wasn't a good idea to dwell on details of the past few years. This was her second chance, things were different now. And that was what she had to focus on.

_Daddy would want it that way and be proud_. A sense of happiness filled her at that thought only to feel it squashed a moment later by another errant voice: _No he wouldn't. He was never proud of you and died cursing you because you never killed Sylar._

_ Hope he was a good screw, princess._

"Shut up," she muttered, stepping onto the sidewalk and heading to the bus stop. Her mouth felt mopped dry by a dishrag.

Thankfully the voice listened and quieted as she approached the loose scattering of people waiting for their morning ride. Even though the stop was close to a school, there were only a few people around her target. She wanted to do this out in the open so she wouldn't scare him but still needed privacy given the topic of conversation.

Elle glanced down at the photo of a slim twenty-five year old with patchy facial hair. She wasn't sure what Miles Addison's personal politics were, but with the way the world was now it really wasn't a good idea to start broadcasting someone on the street was a special.

Some people liked the attention that brought them and puffed up their chests when the little old ladies across from them on the bus suddenly grew fearful as though wondering if they were about to see someone sprout wings and fly.

Elle was like that once—hell, she was still like that as a couple of non special bars here in good old Baltimore could attest to—but she understood not wanting the bad with the good. She could fight back if she had to, but Miles with the ability to transmute metal could not.

_I love your sense of irony picking this case, princess_.

And there was a little yellow strip of paper tucked in the file folder in her car that pretty much confirmed for her that Miles would not like any attention for being different. It was the reason she picked him and not for his ability. She had retrieved it from his trash not long after she started trailing him. Her Company instincts were still good (_you were never the agent you could have been_) and it confirmed he was the person her two missions should start with. She had a message to pass on to him, from one special to another, but also needed his help in a more personal cause.

Scrawled on the torn piece of legal paper was an address and the phrase "We were taken too".

Following him the next night she found a small group of people waiting at the address they provided. The meeting was short but Miles left looking tearful and relieved. Elle hadn't recognized any of the group's members, but she was sure they were probably in the files Noah kept in his apartment.

Just some of those they had bagged and tagged over the years.

She hadn't been involved with Miles' disappearance, neither had Noah, but the notes from his case agent in the file were extensive. Chances were she knew more about his abduction than he would ever remember.

Elle tucked his picture into a back pocket as she came to a stop next to him. Miles Addison was gangly, a little nerdy, and wrapped in a long coat even though it was seasonably warm. He wore a backpack over one shoulder and kept readjusting it in a nervous habit. She knew where he lived, worked, his favorite neighborhood bar, and that he did not like to be touched and hadn't had a steady girlfriend since the Company took him.

Elle felt a sudden rush of anxiety. For the past couple of days, she'd thought about how this conversation would go—the first of many, she hoped. But now she hesitated, unsure if she wanted to go through with this. The Company, Elle's version of it anyway, was effectively gone and part of her just wanted its sins to stay out of sight. She wasn't responsible for this kid. If he couldn't deal then it should be his problem and not hers.

Elle almost turned around. But this was her second chance. Things were different now and this was something she had to do and see to the end if she wanted the opportunity to count for something. She knew what it was like to have memories taken away until only a dull echo remained. Maddeningly out of reach.

"Excuse me," she said.

Miles glanced at her.

"I, um, you don't know me but I used to work for a company that did experiments…"

His eyes suddenly went wide with recognition. Miles Addison had probably feared his entire adult life something like this would happen one day. A stranger would walk up, lay on hands, and make him forget everything. Or worse make him disappear all together.

Before she could say anything else, he turned on his heel and took off running.

"Wait!" Elle started after him.

Miles dashed into traffic without looking. Horns blared and morning commuters slammed on their brakes to keep from hitting him. He didn't stop and aimed for a bike path that ran deeper into the park.

Electricity crackled over her fingers as Elle ran after him. The desire to hamstring him felt like a physical hunger and sent a thrill through her. It would feel so good to stop the little prat. Didn't he know she was trying to be a good person and didn't need that sort of temptation?

"I just want to talk to you," she called. "Please stop."

If Miles even heard her it wasn't enough to make him slow. Running from the embodiment of every fear, real and imagined, he'd had for the past several years Miles was starting to put distance between them.

A couple of morning joggers and cyclists turned to look at the scrawny kid running with a yelling blonde chasing after, but no one tried to intervene. God bless modern society.

Muscles still stiff from a night spent in the driver's seat of a car shot pins and needles through her legs as she struggled to keep up.

__

Some second chance. This is the sum of your life, princess. Scarred victims.

"Shut up!" Elle wasn't even aware she said that out loud until Miles glanced back in surprise at the venom of her tone.

He swerved suddenly and cut across a playground to another bike path that would take him back around to where they entered the park. Elle tried to follow but her shoes slipped on the soft ground and she fell face first into the dirt. Her chin hit hard and forced her teeth together with a click. She slid to a stop and glanced up in time to see Miles hopelessly out of reach.

She lay there for a moment, tasting dirt in her mouth and feeling dew seeping into her jeans, before finally climbing to her feet and starting back to the car. Elle walked slowly and didn't pay any attention to the strange looks that were thrown her way.

Miles was long gone, she knew. He wouldn't go to work today and might leave the city. It was possible he would even tip off the entire support group of Company abductees. If she wanted to pick up his trail she would have to do it soon.

_Or just give up this entire 'mission'_, the voice whispered. _What did you plan on doing? Begging for forgiveness?_

Elle walked along the side street to the nearest intersection to cross at the light, mumbling to herself the whole way. Just another crazy that people pointedly didn't walk next to or look at too long.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Claire Bennet looked at the clothes stacked on the bed. "We'll only be on the road a couple of days."

"I know." Gretchen opened a duffel bag and began filling it. "But I believe in being prepared."

The smaller woman picked up a bag of apple slices and held it up. "Including preventing starvation?"

Gretchen smiled and plucked the bag from her hand. She tossed it into the open pack. "Nourishment is the most important part of any road trip."

"Mmm. I thought that was a car?"

"Well." She zipped the duffel and clutched it dramatically to her chest. "It is my car and my food so there."

Claire tried to give her a stern look before failing and softening. She turned and began zipping her own duffel—notably smaller than Gretchen's. "It's not too late, you know?" she said. "We can switch plans. You don't have to spend our entire vacation in New York.

"We could go to Austin."

Claire heard Gretchen pause for a moment. "Nah," she said. "I prefer your family. Mrs. Petrelli doesn't really know what to make of me yet, but Peter's nice."

"Okay." Claire focused on her bag for a moment, idly tracing a white knot embroidered into the strap for decoration. She didn't want to get into an old argument. "Maybe Christmas?"

"Yeah sure." The brunette hefted her bags. "Ready?"

Claire nodded and slung her duffel over a shoulder. She took Gretchen's smaller tote from her and together they walked from the dorm room. The residence area was quiet and seemed larger without the constant press of students in the halls. Their footsteps echoed in the absence of thumping music coming from dorms.

Outside the grounds were equally as sparse. Claire enjoyed the college when it was like this. It was peaceful and at rest. She knew most of Arlington University had left in the middle of the week to get a jump on summer break. Those left lounged on the grounds, enjoying the nice warm weather before leaving for home or road trip adventures.

Claire was hoping for a little bit of both.

Their road schedule (because you needed a schedule according to Gretchen) took them leisurely up the coast before finally arriving in New York City. On the way she had hoped to spend time in Washington with her father but he was too busy with work for guests, at least for a couple of weeks. Their itinerary now included a visit to Noah on the way back to school.

Publicly the congressional investigation into what and when the government knew about people with abilities was ongoing. But privately she knew there were pardons for people like her father and Lauren in exchange for their experience and help with whatever program for integrating specials and regular humans emerged from all the fallout.

The empty peacefulness of Arlington settled over her again.

Immediately after her announcement to the world there were interviews and calls from news agencies around the world. Plus visits from government representatives and former Company agents. The latter of the two she assured she wouldn't expose even if she knew the full details of their actions over the years. That was up to her father and Angela to sort out.

Gretchen opened her Nissan Cube's rear hatch and started loading their bags. Over the past several months she had stayed by Claire's side and suffered through all the interviews, wonderment, and scorn from the public. When they returned to college, Claire had worried some of the anti-special groups that had sprung up around the nation would recruit at Arlington and possibly even target Gretchen.

She wouldn't have blamed her if she hadn't wanted to stay. It was a lot to take in—a whole new world—and potentially dangerous.

Gretchen took Claire's bag and tucked it next to hers in the back, nudging them to make sure they wouldn't jostle when driving. "Okay, I think we should—"

On impulse Claire stepped forward and kissed her. She felt the surprise go through the other woman before she relaxed against her. It was warm and familiar and Claire felt the happiness of being with her flutter in her belly.

"What was that for?" Gretchen asked.

"I'm just…content," she said. "This trip is exactly what I need. Peace, quiet, and you sound heavenly to me."

Gretchen slipped her arms around Claire's waist and held on tight. "Good, because I don't think you have to worry about any unwanted excitement this time."

...  
...

The first time Elle visited the bookstore its owner had looked at her strangely. Not many people came in to buy newspapers, she figured. Or at least not a dozen at a time. She bought a local edition and one from every major city the bookstore carried. From as close as Washington DC and as far away as Florida. In her car, pasted in a notebook, were clippings she downloaded from smaller papers she found online.

The Internet wasn't always available with her life such as it was now so she had decided to start paying visits to bookstores.

_Daddy would approve_, she thought. Her investigative skills were improving from her time spent with the Company.

Presently the shop owner, an overweight middle aged man with stubble on his neck folds, glanced at Elle's playground-stained clothes as he rung up her collection of newspapers. "Say, what do you do with all these every day?" he asked. It was the first thing not required by mere social nicety he'd said to her since she started coming in as part of her routine.

Elle glanced up in surprise. "What?"

"Well, I mean, aren't all the stories the same?" He dumped her purchases into a reused plastic grocery store bag.

"I like the crossword puzzles," she lied and threw money on the counter.

Leaving the bookstore she started back to her car, grumbling all the way. Last thing she needed was people asking questions and getting into her business. The headline on one of the papers sticking out of the bag was about a prominent celebrity that had come out of the closet as having an ability.

_That's right, Elle_, her father's voice whispered. _They all know about your power. Sloppy, Elle. You shouldn't have caused that scene in the park_.

She stopped at her car and leaned against the hood for a moment before continuing. Using her thumbs, she touched each fingertip on both hands and counted them over and over until the repetitive action relaxed her. It was just paranoia and nothing more. She was fine.

When going through her daily news reports, Elle tried to stay away from the stories and editorials about specials in the world. It was just something she couldn't deal with right now. There were too many Addisons that she had to deal with first.

Opening the car and throwing the sack of newspapers onto the passenger side floor, Elle dropped behind the wheel and turned the ignition. After the disastrous meeting this morning she had to figure out a new plan. She stole a glance at the file folder on the seat next to her. Maybe she should just find another Company victim and move on.

_Maybe you should just move on all together? What are you hoping to prove, Elle? Are you some sort of social worker for emotionally abused specials now? Try helping yourself first._

"I am," she answered the voice.

Elle glanced in the rearview mirror and felt a fresh stab of worry. Maybe she should start visiting another bookstore?

Fifteen minutes later she pulled into the parking lot of the run down motel that served as her home now. Buried deep in the less than savory part of town, the motor lodge offered monthly down to hourly rates. She paid cash for the room and kept to herself.

Elle killed the engine and collected her file folder, notebook, and bag of newspapers. The lot was empty and smelled faintly of diesel fumes. She didn't pay the distant emergency sirens any mind as she walked to her room and unlocked the door.

The inside was basic and crappy. A burnt orange bedspread clashed loudly with the green floral wallpaper. A small desk shoved into the corner of the room was overflowing with newspaper scraps and half used bottles of paste. Adjacent to the crowded living space was a narrow bathroom. Her laundry, freshly washed in the sink, hung drying from towel racks and drawers.

Elle set the file folder on the desk and picked up a pair of scissors. She kicked off her shoes and flopped down on the bed. Awareness that she'd only gotten a few hours of sleep scrunched behind the wheel of a car pressed a dull ache behind her eyes. No time for that, however.

She opened the reused grocery store bag and emptied it over the ugly bedspread. Sighing she began picking through the news. Entertainment and gossip took a backseat to obituaries. Washington's newspapers first and then New York's followed by Atlanta's...

Elle felt the certainty of it as the ink stained her fingers black—today she was going to find another. It was a different kind of tiredness slowly working its way through her now. The rest of the news became unimportant as the sureness grew. She ripped the papers apart until she found a name she recognized in a tiny blurb below the full obits.

"Suicide victim identified as William Chase, former corporate officer of the Primatech Paper Company._"_

Electricity hummed over Elle's skin as she tried to heat the chill raising gooseflesh there. Resignedly she used the scissors to cut the story out. She'd only met him once in person but had talked to Assistant Director Chase over the phone several times while on assignment for the Company. Her father had known him for almost ten years.

A cleaning lady had found him hanging from his own belt in a hotel room in Delaware, the state next door to the one Elle now called home. No foul play was suspected. He left behind a grown son and an ex wife. William apparently got up one morning, wrote a note, then drove fifteen minutes from home to rent a room and hang himself.

An entire life summed up so neatly that after she cut the story out of the paper it was smaller than most grocery store coupons. Buy one suicide and get the second for free!

Elle idly wondered if anyone had written a story like that about her. Probably not. She hadn't been dead long enough to matter to anyone...if such a person had existed. Holding the news story in one hand, Elle couldn't help but look at the headlines of the discarded papers. Stories of abilities and specials filled the black and white print. Captions and tones were different based on the political slant the papers were geared toward, but one name kept appearing over and over again. Some even showed pictures of when she reset her bones on live TV.

Dangerously close to memories and emotions Elle didn't like to think about, she sat staring at those pictures for a long time. Claire Bennet occupied a place in her mind that she didn't like to visit very often.

They weren't really…anything to each other now. Certainly not friends. At least they weren't enemies—she didn't think they were anyway. One enemy didn't bring the other back to life. Right?

Elle sighed and looked away from the stories about abilities. She didn't want to think about Claire. William Chase and the other obituaries cut and pasted in her scrapbook were important now.

_And what a bang up job you are doing._

Her gaze fell on her cell phone resting on the nightstand. There was someone else she wasn't eager to deal with at the moment—although for completely different reasons than the cheerleader. Crawling across the bed, Elle grabbed the phone and flipped it open.

His number wasn't programmed in (he changed it too often for that) but halfway through typing it the phone helpfully supplied the last three numbers and started to connect on its own.

Elle bit back another sigh and put the phone to her ear. She glanced to the tv and almost expected it to snap on and start playing Poltergeist. This hotel room was not clean.

He answered on the third ring. "Hello, Agent Bishop." There was no one else in the world that still called her that; certainly no one that would mean it with the respect he seemed to imply.

"I found another," she said. "Delaware Democrat. AD Chase was found dead."

The voice on the other side of the line was silent for several moments. She knew he was calling up the information and reading the article.

"I'm sorry," he said at last.

"Not like he was my godfather or anything," Elle snapped.

"Still," he was frustratingly patient when all she wanted was to fight, "you knew him. And I'm sure it makes you sad that he's gone."

_You all have it coming_.

"We need to start figuring out how these agents are being tracked down," Elle said. "Chase got out of the Company when I was still there."

"I'm reading his DMV file now. He wasn't exactly careful after the Company shut down. Used his real name for property holdings and bank accounts and everything."

A small thread of anger shot through her voice. "Yeah sloppy us for not thinking and anticipating that we would be hunted down like dogs once we went out of business."

"Tracy did it," he pointed out, still a calm voice on the other end of the line.

Elle didn't have an answer to that. "Are you sure she isn't behind this again?"

"Yes, we are. I talked to her yesterday and she isn't carrying a vendetta. Plus hanging isn't her style."

"Right."

"We are in Jersey," he said. "Meet up with us and we can figure out how to get ahead of this guy and put a stop to the killing."

"I'm not really interested in partnering up with anyone. Talking this way is fine."

"You've said that before, but the offer still stands. I just want to help you, Agent Bishop."

Claire's face stared up at her from the crumpled newspapers. "Better specials than you and your girlfriend have tried," Elle said. "I'm beyond help right now."

"That's not true."

"Yeah, well, I just wanted to give you the heads up on Chase. I'm going to stay in Baltimore for a few more days and then move on. I'll head to Chase's murder scene next and poke around. Maybe I'll find something linking him to the other dead agents."

He was silent for a moment. "Elle…"

"Have you told Noah yet?" she asked, not wanting his pity on top of everything else. "Like I asked you to?"

"I haven't been able to find him," he said. "Bennet has been completely off the grid since Claire made her announcement at the carnival."

Elle didn't bother trying to contain the anger this time. It rushed through her and gave her something familiar and comforting to feel. "Well that is pretty rich coming from you. Why don't you just roll over and have your girlfriend find him?"

"She doesn't do that any longer."

"The hell she doesn't," Elle snapped. "Noah deserves to know there is someone out there hunting ex agents."

"Noah can handle himself," the voice on the line assured her. "Chances are he already knows about the murders and that is why he's staying out of sight."

Elle clicked her tongue. She didn't like the idea of Noah out there possibly with a target on his back and not knowing it. And it was made worse that her distant friend had a solid way of finding him but wouldn't use it. His girlfriend didn't want to be a special? Tough. They were born this way.

"I owe it to Claire to make sure he's safe," Elle admitted at last. Each word was like a glass shard slicing through her skin. It made her feel awful to confess something like that.

He sighed. "I can find Claire—she used her debit card at a gas station just a couple of hours ago. She's close to you right now in Virginia."

"Fine. Get a hold of Noah that way."

"It might be good for you to talk to her," he said. "I know about what happened between you two. I can text you her location."

"No."

"But—"

"_No_." Elle pushed to her feet and threw the crumpled up news stories in the trash. "I'll call you if I find anything in Delaware." She snapped the phone closed before he could say another word.

Elle stood alone in the empty motel room, looking down at her phone for a long while. Finally she tossed it on the bed and tried to ignore the sound of mocking laughter in her head.

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"Invisibility," Gretchen said at last.

From the passenger seat Claire looked over and smiled. "Really? I can think of several that would be better than that."

"No, I mean look at it. You could go anywhere without being seen." She waggled her eyebrows. "I could sneak into the ladies locker room."

"You can get in there anyway."

"Not while invisible—but okay, the men's locker room then. I'm flexible."

Claire fought and failed to keep her grin from growing at Gretchen's playful tone. "So there is no love for the power of invulnerability? Your blood would live outside your body. You could cut yourself and get to watch your blood run across the table to jump back inside."

Gretchen pretended to think about that. "You don't have any relatives that were in the arctic in the early 80s, do you?"

She'd seen that movie too. "Not that I know of, but you never know when another Petrelli is going to pop up. Or at least their head."

"I suppose invulnerability might have its advantages too," Gretchen admitted.

"Might, huh?"

"Yeah, but I think it is a little too defensive of a power if I'm going to be a fearsome agent."

Claire put her bare feet up on the dashboard and leaned back. "Oh you are?"

"Well, in this fantasy I bummed around after college for a while until your dad finally took pity and got me a job. 'Can't have my daughter marrying a loser after all.'" She did a rather unconvincing impersonation of Noah Bennet.

At the mention of her father, Claire briefly wondered again of Gretchen's parents but thought better of saying anything. In her own time, Gretchen would tell her why she didn't seem to want to visit them. "This is true," she conceded. "So you want an offensive power…oh, there was this one special that could make black holes. Almost sucked me in one."

Gretchen shook her head. "I don't think I have the grades in physics for that."

Claire snapped her fingers. "Fire control. Always a classic and I have a history with it."

"I like it. Would I get a red leather costume to wear?"

Claire glanced at her pointedly, enjoying the faint color that came to her cheeks. "You absolutely would. Complete with bustier and heels."

"This fantasy has improved dramatically since I was a jobless bum."

Claire reached over and let a hand rest comfortably on Gretchen's knee, fingers sliding over the seam of her pant leg. "Let's see…what else? You'd have to be partnered with a non-special—that's how it worked. One of us, one of them."

"Mr. Bennet could show me the ropes. I wouldn't wear the costume with him," she added unnecessarily.

A laugh bubbled up. "Okay. Good to know. The bustier and heels can be for home and the occasional crime fighting on the weekends."

"As a firestarter my one weakness would probably be water," Gretchen continued to think aloud. "I guess Mr. Bennet would have to handle all renegade specials on rainy days."

Something she couldn't identify twinged deep inside Claire's chest.

"You know what would be cool? Storm control. I could bring lightning down on the bad guys whenever I wanted, like a lady Zeus. Was there a lady Zeus?"

Claire glanced out her window, reading the quickly passing signs advertising gas, food, and lodging. "Electrical control is a real ability," she said. "It's very hard to master though."

Gretchen took her gaze from the road long enough to shoot her a concerned look. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No. Why?"

"You got all weird. And your hand stopped rubbing my leg. Was there a storm controller at the carnival I don't remember?"

Claire frowned at that and gave a reassuring smile. "No, I'm not weird at all."

"Okay." Gretchen didn't look wholly convinced though. They drove in silence for several minutes. Neither woman was in any hurry; Gretchen had planned to detour off the main route past Delaware. She'd allowed enough time if they wanted to slip south before New York and sightsee along the Atlantic. There were several inns along the shore her guide suggested for romantic getaways that earned a four roses out of five rating. "So was that one them and one of us thing real?"

Claire made an affirmative noise. "That was the rule at the Company. Specials and nons were paired to help make up for what each lacked in the field."

Gretchen nodded and seemed to consider something for a long moment. "You wouldn't happen to know if there was much…fraternization between partners back then?"

Surprised, Claire blinked at that. "I'm not sure how many female agents there were to male agents back when Angela and the others founded the Company."

Gretchen snapped her fingers once and gestured between them.

"Oh, right. I don't know, sorry. Why?"

"I was just wondering what sort of precedent there was for mixed relationships."

Claire stared at her. "I was joking about wanting you to have a power," she said. "You know that, right?"

"I know; I didn't mean it like that. The opposite really. I was thinking about how relationships are like a balancing act—when you said that about Company partners I wondered if it wouldn't be true for other types of special to non special partnering as well.

"I believe sometimes people are…I don't know…missing parts of themselves inside and find them in other people. Like puzzle pieces trying to fit together. It would be interesting to look back and see if Company partnerships ever worked like that."

Claire thought for a moment. "You are going to make me say something really syrupy here about us, aren't you?"

Gretchen winked. "We could talk about my red leather bustier instead."

"I'm good with that too."

…

…

Nicholas Kane cast his mind into the wind and traveled.

The world was a dizzying rush around him, the soft murmur of voices filled his brain. He moved as quick as thought, existing in brief flashes within the minds of those that could hear him. At first Nicholas was directionless and had to trust his ability to carry him where he needed to go.

It had taken him a long time to regain his power, even in this limited fashion, and longer still to be able to lock onto the individual minds that buzzed differently than others. He could now track and target specials.

Here, in his domain, the world had no solid form and when his powers were passive was little more than a half-seen daydream for him. He had no visual reference to the outside world and could only depend on his gift to seek out a candidate close enough to Elle Bishop and Claire Bennet.

It hadn't let him down yet.

After the Company agent crippled him and forever hamstrung his power, Nicholas had had plenty of time to test and explore what she'd turned his once powerful ability into. He never had the chance to fully master his power in his first life but in this one he had a level control no one ever suspected he would command.

And now he had a plan to restore himself to what he was. Grimly he laughed at Elle Bishop's idea of a second chance—one she did not deserve. Claire Bennet's blood had restored her, as it had others, and it could restore him just as easily.

Nicholas' focus slipped a little when he allowed himself to dwell on that thought. Her ability would restore his power to its full strength and along with the skills he had already mastered would make him unstoppable.

Nicholas planned to make every former Company agent pay one by one.

Without flourish or impact he suddenly arrived at his destination. He slithered through the special's mind, masking his presence at first. The other man's senses slowly came to Nicholas and he saw through eyes in need of glasses and felt the world through grimy unclean skin.

He was in a transient again. Beneath him in a way, but the perfect target for his ability. After his run in with Bishop years ago Nicholas spent a great deal of time floating in a vacuum, able to feel his power around him but not able to touch it.

Once he figured out the key to focusing the ability again he was able to begin clawing his way back into the world. Even if it was only through the jagged and sometimes chemically altered senses of the mentally ill, at least he was able to exist in the physical world again.

It was his hatred for the Company that made his gift seek out those also changed by its tests. The ability inside him offered them up as wonderful weapons to use in his campaign. By chance, while hunting for more minds to twist, he happened across Bishop.

She was the reason for his condition and the focal point of his vengeance. Nicholas was a patient man and knew he had already outlasted the Company—even if it took years he would make her pay. He would break her and drive her fully insane before finally imprisoning her inside her own mind, just like she had done to him.

The homeless man he existed as now was sitting on a small pull cart—a child's toy he had painted and added shelves to in order to make it his most prized possession. In front of him was a flimsy paperback he read with great relish despite needing a prescription for nearsightedness.

Nicholas continued to hide from his new host. With a quick poke to just the right part of the man's brain, memories spilled across the bridge between him and Nicholas. He was John Holman, thirty-four years old, and current resident of the Baltimore area parks.

Humming like a transformer through John's subconscious was his ability. Crude and barely touched it was unmastered and waited only for John to call upon it.

Not giving away his position, Nicholas explored the other man's power. He remembered the visit from Company agents as though the memories were his own. Felt the Company telepaths rip through his brain, erasing and making him afraid to use his birthright.

Through fuzzy vision, Nicholas saw John's hands start to shake. He put the book down and gripped the wooden sides of his cart, breathing deep and trying to work through the headache that suddenly appeared at the base of his skull.

_John Holman's power would do nicely_, Nicholas thought. Leaving a marker behind so he would easily be able to find him again, Nicholas withdrew and again cast himself into the wind. Aiming this time for his own body. He skipped over minds like a stone over water and slammed back into his real form.

It was striking and violent and a completely different sensation than entering John's mind. Internally, Nicholas rebelled against returning. If his ability allowed it he would find a special and inhabit him or her permanently.

Pain lanced upward from his neck all the way to his bald head. In he was able to, Nicholas would have gasped or cried out. Sound was always the first sense that returned. He heard the steady beep of his monitors and whoosh of his breathing apparatus.

Taste was next. The astringency of the inserted tubing came up from his cut trachea and filled his mouth, making his tongue feel swollen and dry. His room, his external prison, stank of disinfectant and sweat from his crippled body.

Settling into his meat suit again, Nicholas reached out with his ability and called his servant Willie Loomis.

The small wiry man answered the mental command. Once he was a competent if quiet janitor at St. Juliana's Nursing Home, a Company owned institution. Willie also suffered from a small tweak in his psyche that was enough to open the door to Nicholas. He was the first experiment at reaching out again to another mind after Bishop's attack.

Nicholas had taken his time, afraid of moving too fast and losing control of his ability again. Willie slowly became his. At first he used a mere suggestion implanted in his brain and then Nicholas tested the boundaries of his power to control and command for long stretches of time. Finally he began to completely reprogram.

If there was anything left of the original Willie Loomis inside his swiss cheese mind it was beyond Nicholas' ability to detect. Now he was a mindless automaton that did and wanted nothing more in life than to work and take care of Nicholas.

Feeling the respirator fill his lungs, Nicholas used his mind instead to speak. _There is a package I need you to retrieve in Baltimore. Take the van and collect him—he'll be expecting you_.

Willie nodded once and moved to do as commanded. He didn't ask any questions or for additional instructions—he wasn't capable of that any longer and trusted his master to guide him.

Nicholas relaxed as best he could in the medical bed. He had no worries about being alone in the house—there were others he had webbed over the years to help look after his physical form and cover all the expenses required to keep him alive.

It wouldn't be long before that would change, however. With one vial of blood he could undo all the damage that bitch of a Company agent had done to him.

Drawing his strength once more, Nicholas traveled…

…

…

They stopped for the night just outside a small coastal community. The hotel didn't rank many roses on the official guidebook chart but after driving past it, Claire had taken a pencil and wrote "quaint and secluded, perfect for lovers" in the margins and that was good enough for Gretchen. The town didn't offer many tourist traps, but she figured there were enough marinas around they could find a small charter boat to tour area lighthouses or just explore the Bay.

Later, after they had settled into the room and made it feel like theirs, Gretchen struggled to stay awake while watching Claire sleep. She had always loved being the last one awake. Exhausted from the road and their previous activities, Claire lay on her stomach with arms tucked neatly under her pillow.

Gretchen smiled and traced small circles over her bare back. Claire's skin was still warm and moist to the touch. It was worth it, she decided. All the publicity and clamor of being with the woman that had become the face of specials worldwide. It was worth it for quiet moments like these.

Finally she fell asleep with one arm still protectively over Claire's shoulders. That night she dreamed of a man wrapped in shadows standing outside their hotel room, trying unsuccessfully to get inside.

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Since that night on the beach when she died, Elle tried very hard to stay away from large crowds. The pack and press of a multitude of people unsettled her. Even before that night she didn't like crowds—the noise bothered her—but she always attributed that to her upbringing in the relatively empty environment of the Company.

Miles Addison did not own a car, Elle knew this for a fact, so if he wanted to get out of town fast his options were limited. She could have had her contact run a trace on his credit cards or even hack into the security cameras of the greater Baltimore area, but she didn't have him do any of those things.

Addison was her project.

Instead of taking the fast way out she hedged her bets and staked out the one place she would use to sneak from the city. Penn Station.

Doing her best to stay out of the way of the hordes of commuters, travelers, and sightseers Elle had spent most of the morning in the Baltimore's station hub. She'd witnessed two cheesy goodbye scenes, drank three extra large mixed berry slushos, and peed twice. There had been no sign of Addison.

_What are you trying to prove_, her father's voice asked. _Who do you think he is running from_?

"I have to talk to him," she murmured. "If he gets away, then fine, but I have to at least try."

_You will fail. You always do, baby girl_.

Elle paused next to a trashcan and ignored the voice. Miles was standing several paces in front of her, looking at the arrival and departure schedule. _Bingo_, she said silently.

Falling in step with a passing group of businessmen, Elle came up behind Miles and pressed her hand against the small of his back. "Don't run away," she said, feeling him jump. "Your ability doesn't work through clothes but mine does. I can put you down with a thought."

Blood drained from his face and he went rigid. "Please," his voice broke, "please don't take me again."

_If you weren't a cold sociopathic bitch this is where you'd feel guilt_.

"I'm not going to take you anywhere." Elle changed position, relieving some of the pressure against his back, and stepped around to face him. "I just want to talk to you."

"You said you were from the Company."

"I was. It doesn't exist any longer."

"Then what do you want from me?" His tone rose dangerously close to a whine and she had to swallow the desire to zap him anyway.

"You have connections I need," she said. "I know about that group you meet with, the one for former bag and tags."

Miles shook his head insistently. "No. I won't give them up."

"Fine, keep the names. But I need you to pass a message along to them. There are people out there, former Company like me, that want to help. I have a contact, a special, that feels something bad is coming, and that we have to be together to survive it. All of us. Specials _and_ nons."

"So you're, like, recruiting?"

"No, just passing his message on to other specials and asking you to do the same. He wants us to be ready for what's coming. The message is this: 'Be open. Work with each other to help. Be together.'" Elle licked her lips. "I have other, more personal, business with you and those like you. I need to make up for what I did as an agent."

_You'll never be more than what you are right now_.

Miles frowned. "I don't understand."

"I have a second chance," she tried to explain. "I need to make something of it—this is the only way I know how. All those twelve step thingies say you need to seek forgiveness from those you've wronged before you can move on."

"You want me to say I _forgive you_?"

She shifted from one foot to the other. "Yeah. I'll do what I can to earn it."

_You can't make amends, you never will_.

Miles' face tightened with anger. "Not forgiven. You people took me from my home, experimented on me, and then tried to make me forget. You stole my memories and poked around in my brain! There is nothing you can do. I hope Congress throws you all in prison for what you've done."

He glanced over her shoulder, no doubt wondering if he could make a break for a security guard before she could stop him. Elle sidestepped and caught his gaze with hers. He wouldn't make it in time. A low charge filled the air.

_That's my girl! Let loose and bring this entire complex down. You know you could—the experiments we did on you proved that. You remember all those now, right? All that power and pain! Thanks to Claire?_

Elle gasped and jerked backward, stumbling over a line of chairs and falling to the floor. Distantly she heard people scrambling to help; her full attention was on the voice filling her head. It was no longer her father's voice.

_That is a fun little side effect of her blood, isn't it? It undoes all the Haitian's hard work. I bet having to put up with you reliving all that was a surprise for her. She knew you were messed up before, but to actually _see_ it._

_God, what she must think of you now._

Elle gripped her head and rolled on to her side, drawing her knees to her chest. "Shut up!"

There were people everywhere, crowding her and making it hard to breathe. They were talking to her but she couldn't hear them and the voice inside at the same time. And the internal one was pressing harder than it ever had before.

__

I know everything you know, you blonde headed bitch. I know everything you don't like to admit about her and that night. What you fear? You are right. She doesn't want to be around you, no one does, and you are just a means to an end to the technopath and his little army. You're limited use, Elle. What do you think he's going to do with you once he has real agents helping him?

Desperate, Elle tried to force it down. She could do that sometimes when the mania got to be too much—her father taught her how to focus away from it.

_ I'm not going away, Bishop. I'm coming for you like I did those other agents … after I get what I need from Claire._

At that mention of the cheerleader, Elle's power roared to life for her defense. One of the bystanders around her had touched her shoulder to see if she was okay and received a shock hard enough to knock him backward.

Company training, Bob's actual instructions, took over and she wrestled control over her mind back from the voice. The crowd had backed away; if it wasn't before security was on its way. No one wanted to get too close to a special. The bystander she'd shocked was the recipient of sympathy now—Elle spared him a quick glance as she climbed to her feet to make sure she hadn't killed him. He was still moving.

Miles Addison was long gone—Elle knew she had bigger problems to worry about than completing her twelve steps.

She stalked through the crowd, willing it to part with a perceptible charge crackling through the air. "Who the fuck are you?" she demanded.

The voice laughed. _Your conscience_.

Avoiding two guards walking her way, Elle ducked into a group of people heading for the entrance. No alarms had sounded yet and she had to get out before panic at having a wild special on the loose set in.

"I don't have one," she said.

An image of Claire's face hovering over her when she woke up on the beach flashed vividly through her mind. The same confusion and terror she felt in that instant slammed into her gut like a physical blow.

_Maybe you do now?_

She had already researched that—borrowing what information the Company had learned from its experiments on Adam Monroe to try and see if the blood could have fixed her mental problems that night. It couldn't.

"I said, who are you?"

The voice seemed more real, as though whispered directly into her ear. _Aw don't you remember me? I remember you, Elle. I had years to think of nothing but your face when you pulled that trigger and called those men to cart my body away. You should have killed me that day because I'm coming for you now. I'm coming for all you Company whores._

Elle hit sunlight and didn't slow. She walked quickly back to her car.

Another memory came back to her, less vividly than before and she couldn't be sure if it was from her own mind or the voice. One of her early assignments for the Company, a bag and tag they sent her on alone (_always alone_), that went badly. He fought back, caught her unaware, and forced her to draw on him.

The cleaners took care of the body, still alive despite the bad head wound, and removed all trace of her having been in his house. Bob had been furious. Her control was better than that, her mastery better than most specials, and if she had used her natural talents instead of a human weapon the Company wouldn't have lost an asset in Nicholas Kane.

The voice was silent, not giving her anything to confirm her suspicions.

Elle thought hard. The cleaners had taken him to one of their medical facilities—it was standard practice. But which one? How could she be sure he was still a vegetable?

She reached her car, climbed in, and immediately turned the key. Elle needed to move, to get away as fast as possible. Police cars were pulling into the lot when she left. She didn't look back.

Elle drove without direction for a long time. Edginess buzzed underneath her skin, making her worried the voice would return and at the same time wishing that it would. She needed more information or at the very least help.

She had just learned she was on the target list, right after Claire.

Claire.

She was far outside Baltimore's city proper when she finally sighed and reached for her phone. It only took entering the area code for his number to fill itself in and connect this time. Smart phone.

A young woman answered. "Agent Bishop?"

"Put your boyfriend on." Elle switched the phone to speaker and tossed it on the passenger seat.

"Did you find another?" he asked after a few moments.

"Access your stolen Company files," Elle said without preamble. "I need to know the location of an incapacitated bag and tag named Nicholas Kane. Search back as far as you can—I need to know everything that happened to him from the moment I shot him."

"You—?"

"_Now_." Elle noticed she was traveling twenty miles over the speed limit and forced herself to slow down.

He was silent for a full minute while he read through the files, searching and letting the data come back to him. "He was checked out of St. Juliana's by family members two years ago."

"I need names and addresses."

Another beat. "They are fake. Nothing in tax records matching those names in New York or New Jersey."

Elle cursed softly. "I need to find him—right now. He's dangerous with a capital D and he just told me that he's responsible for killing Company agents. You know what I need her to do."

"She—wait, slow down, he told you?"

"Yeah, we just had a little mental chat."

"Mental?" Elle heard him mumble aloud as he read further into Nicholas' file. "Agent Bishop, I don't know if Molly could even help find him."

"I don't care what sort of crisis of ability she's having, we both need—"

"He's a telepath," he reminded her. "And if he just contacted you from a far away distance then I want to know more of how his power works before even attempting to have her search for him."

"Mi—"

"No." He suddenly sounded older and more firm than she'd ever heard him before. She remembered that this wasn't the first time he'd directed orders to another special. "If he can follow the trace back he could hollow her out, Elle. I'm not risking that without knowing more. Let me do some research...it will be up to Molly. Even if it is safe, I can't promise she will help."

Perfect. Just perfect.

Elle drove without really seeing the road. What she had to do was slowly settling over her and making her guts twist.

"Agent Bishop? Elle, are you still there?"

"Yeah." She sighed. "Send me Claire's location." 

…

…

Nicholas merrily skipped from Elle's mind and launched himself back toward his other asset in the same area.

He didn't bother hiding his presence this time. His will bore straight through John Holman's mind, feeling memories and personality wrap around him as he went deep.

_John_. Nicholas let his voice vibrate through Holman's hurt psyche. _I need you to do something for me, John_.

Through the other man's ears, Nicholas could hear yelling and confusion. John wasn't like Bishop, he wasn't used to voices talking to him in his head. He also wasn't a fun project like Bishop so he didn't get the same pass of kid gloves.

Nicholas let his ability take control and shoved away free will. He began weaving instructions, giving him a mental image of Willie and where to meet him, and what he wanted with his power.

"No," what was left of the man John Holman mumbled as it faded, "I don't use it. No more. The suits came, tried to make me forget, and now I don't."

_Yes, you do, my poor friend. You'll use it because I tell you to_.

Only a groan answered this time and Nicholas felt his orders locking down into the shredded mind. _Now, let me show you who I want you to bring back to me_… 

…

…

The car died several miles from the hotel.

Elle let it roll to the side of the small two lane road and sat there for a long while, radio still playing and headlights cutting into the darkness ahead of her. After a small amount of confusion she figured out the car's problem. The gas gauge was resting on empty.

"Shit!" She hammered her hand against the steering wheel. "Son of a goddamn bitch."

Elle sighed. Her head hurt, her stomach hurt, and she wanted to be a thousand miles from this place. She was tired of dealing with the ghost of the Company all around her, sick of having to keep reliving her first life, and in no way eager to see Claire.

No, that wasn't entirely true, she decided. There was something she couldn't identify inside her linked to Claire Bennet—it wasn't the blood. She had researched that too; it died without leaving anything behind after healing. When she thought about it, when she failed to _not_ think about it, she knew it went all the way back to the death of Bob and her subsequent time with Claude.

Then she didn't have anywhere else to go and had to crawl to Bennet like a sick dog. Claire took her in, was nice to her when she shouldn't have been. Even when they fought and ended up on different sides of the war the offer of help was always there, unspoken. Elle hated that. She hated the feelings that offer drummed up inside her.

Deciding to leave before her will died along with the car, Elle gathered her phone and few supplies she had with her and popped the door. She took one last glance around. She was running on fumes and didn't feel good. A bottle of water, or a slusho, or even a thermos of coffee would be nice. Though, she silently chided, had she thought to stop for any of those things she could have filled the gas tank as well.

Still stewing about having to see Claire again, Elle let free an arc of power into the front end of the car as she walked past. The lights flickered once and then went dark again. A small black mark marred the front end and she could smell something burning under the hood.

It made her feel a little better so it was completely worth it.

Onward Elle walked into the night.

…

… 

Deep in the emptiness, John Holman was aware. Dimly he could feel his body walking and he knew it was moving away from his painted cart and every possession he owned in the world. There was a man with a van he was going to meet.

His legs carried him forward to the rendezvous without any conscious effort on his part. If his new master commanded it he knew his body would walk into the ocean and not stop.

John gathered his sense of self and will, kept them out of sight of the bit of Nicholas' soul that remained behind, and locked them away in a small corner of his mind. The telepath couldn't see all parts of John's brain at once, he understood that somehow. He couldn't stop what was coming, the attack Nicholas planned, but maybe he could hide until just the right moment.

Maybe then... 

The knocking was insistent and steady.

Claire blinked blearily at the clock and took a moment to process that it was four eighteen in the morning. Beside her Gretchen stirred. "What? What is it?"

"I don't know." Claire swung her legs out from underneath the blankets and stood. "Stay here."

She grabbed a shirt from the floor and pulled it on. The knocking continued unabated. "Who is it?"

Only pounding on the door answered.

Claire walked to the window nearest the door and peered around the curtain. She couldn't make out a face, but did see a small lone figure leaning heavily against the doorframe. Streetlights played over blonde hair.

She threw the lock and opened the door a crack. "Who—?"

Elle Bishop stood in the entranceway. "Hey, Cheerleader. What's new?" She gave half a grin before collapsing forward.

Surprised, Claire caught her and went to the floor with her. She glanced up and saw Gretchen watching wide eyed.

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Several minutes later the lights in the main room were on and Claire had moved Elle the sofa. The young special lay with her feet up and an arm thrown over her eyes. From her vantage point in the bedroom, Gretchen could hear her mumbling to herself.

"She's insane," Claire said, pulling on pants. "A sociopath, a _psychopath_."

"I think those are the same thing," Gretchen said. "And _shhh_—she'll hear you!"

"I don't care." Claire didn't raise her voice over a whisper though. "She's dangerous. A murderer, a villain, and I don't want her anywhere near you."

Gretchen glanced around the bedroom door to their guest. "Well, she doesn't exactly look like she's in the killin' mood so I think I'm safe. In fact, I'd say she looks lonely and afraid." A fear for Claire that was never far from her thoughts flashed anew. "Maybe she ran into some special against non special trouble? We've both seen the news."

Claire's paused. "No," she said without conviction. "Elle's a former Company agent like my dad and she has a deadly ability. She is more than able to handle herself against both specials and nons."

Gretchen shrugged, not sure. "Still we should be careful. She seems delicate."

Claire ran a hand back through her hair. "So very not delicate. Let's go."

Gretchen fell in step behind her girlfriend and let her take the lead. Claire hadn't shared any details but the two specials obviously went back a long way. Carnival not withstanding, she didn't know much about what it really meant to be a special other than having powers. There was a whole community she'd only just glimpsed through Claire.

Whether she knew it or not, Claire had positioned herself in the forefront of relations between the two kinds of humans. Gretchen knew as a non she could only try to keep up and learn along the way.

"Elle," Claire said, "are you okay?"

"Fine." The agent sat up slightly, letting her arm drop. "Just a little saddle sore. I've been driving for hours trying to find you. Well, I did about a hundred miles in a general 'get away' direction before I hung a U to come here."

Claire sat on the corner of the coffee table, across from her. "Are we in danger?"

"No, not right now. Not immediate." Elle glanced around; her eyes seemed to want to look at everything but Claire. "I need to talk to Noah as soon as possible though."

"Is this a Level Five type problem?"

"No, just another Company secret that should be six feet in the ground." She fidgeted uncomfortably.

Gretchen blinked in surprise when Claire reached out and touched the murderous villain's hand. Her thumb brushed knuckles and Elle visibly relaxed. Now her gaze turned on Claire. "I wouldn't have bothered you if I didn't have to," she said. "I know I'm breaking up your little underwear pillow fight here."

It didn't come out harsh, but Claire jerked away regardless. She covered the action by standing. "I should have introduced you sooner. Elle, meet Gretchen Berg. Gretchen, meet Elle Bishop."

Elle flexed her hand, touching thumb to fingertips, and looked over. "Hey, Chestnut."

Gretchen wished she was cooler when all that came out of her mouth was a simple, "Hi."

The three women stood in awkward silence for a long moment, Gretchen on one side with Elle on the other and Claire directly between. _Quite_ a bit of history, Gretchen decided, feeling it roll off them in waves. A lot more than she first thought.

Claire cleared her throat. "I'll call dad first thing in the morning. I haven't heard from him in a little while but I'm sure he'll give you whatever help you need."

"I'm sure he'd be very eager to help me." Elle snorted. "Noah's a tough old goat but I've got his back through all this."

Claire frowned at that. "What exactly is happening?"

"Old bag and tag decided to wake up on the wrong side of the Craftmatic." Elle hesitated for a second. "He's hunting down Company agents."

"_What_? You didn't think to mention that sooner?"

"Noah's gone to ground," Elle said. "So far he's managed to avoid pinging a powerful technopath so ducking most other specials shouldn't be hard for him—believe me he's not exactly in the book."

Claire turned back to the bedroom. "I'll get my phone."

Fingers brushed Gretchen's hand as the special hurried past and she felt warmth spread from the touch. Gretchen shuffled deeper into the room.

Elle sighed. "I knew she wasn't going to take that well. Should have handled it better. Never learn." She let her head roll back against the sofa for a moment before glancing at Gretchen. "So, you're the new squeeze, huh?"

"Guess so." Gretchen stepped closer, trying to appear friendly.

"So what do you do, Doe Eyes?" She peered at her. "Fly? She likes fliers."

"What—? Oh, no I don't have...I'm not a special."

Elle nodded. "So Claire-bear is going the other way now?" She smiled at her own joke. "A non special. Good for her."

Gretchen didn't know how to answer that so she just smiled in reply.

A strange flicker passed over Elle's gaze. "She did good. You're pretty."

"Thank you but it is almost five in the morning and I still have pillow marks on my face."

"It's nice what you two have here." She twirled her finger, indicating the room. "Very homey."

It was masked quickly, but Gretchen caught the longing in her tone. "So, how did you and Claire meet? Was it Company business or—" She almost said a 'gathering of specials' like an idiot but stopped herself in time_. They belong to a community, not a book club_.

"Actually, funny story, I was assigned—"

"No answer," Claire said walking back in the main room, cell phone in hand. "I left a message and texted both his phone and Lauren's."

"It's still early." Gretchen gave a comforting squeeze to Claire's forearm. "I'm sure he'll call once the sun has caught up with us."

Elle glanced between the two of them. "He's not an easy one to take out, Cheerleader. And he has a heads up now."

Claire nodded her thanks to Gretchen and turned back to Elle. "Who is doing this?"

"He was before your time. Name is Nicholas Kane, he's a telepath—or at least he was before I shot him in the head." Her eyes went wide with ironic emphasis. "Who knows what messing with some kid's brain will do to them later in life?"

"You shot him in the head?" Gretchen repeated.

"Believe all of Pom Pom's stories about me." A wicked grin rose. "I'm one bad mofo."

Claire shook her head. "I haven't really mentioned you to her."

Pain flashed across Elle's face and her grin wilted. In a blink both it and the emotion were gone.

Gretchen gasped. "Claire!"

Claire must have seen it too; a flush of embarrassment colored her cheeks.

"Well, you are missing out then," Elle said without missing a beat. "There was a night on a beach that I'm particularly fond of, for obvious reasons."

The blush deepened.

_Oh_, Gretchen thought. _That explains some things_.

"Hey, when Noah calls back tell him he can find me in a car down the street from here. It's the one with a smoldering front end." Elle swung her legs around and stood. "It's been a blast, ladies, but I don't really belong here."

Using her hold on Claire's arm for leverage, Gretchen pulled her aside. "Apologize," she said. "That was...mean."

Claire opened her mouth and then closed it. She looked at Elle. "There are things about us you don't understand."

_I have a very good idea_. Her brain helpfully supplied what a night on the beach with Claire might entail. "I don't care about that. She came to you for help and we are being very bad hosts. Now go and apologize."

Claire sighed and turned back. "I'm sorry, Elle, that came out wrong. You don't have to leave."

Elle seemed to weigh the awkwardness between the three of them with the return trip to her crippled car. Since neither special wanted to work through it, Gretchen took it upon herself to do it for them.

"What she means is you aren't going anywhere," she said. "You are staying here as long as you need to, and we won't take no for an answer."

"We won't?" Claire's lips quirked. "No, we won't. That's her resolved face; you might as well just give in. I do."

Elle slowly sank back down to the sofa. "You two are weird. I'll stay but just until tomorrow when Noah calls back."

"Actually, it already is tomorrow. The sun will be up soon."

"Morning solely depends on what time you wake up, Doe Eyes, and I haven't been to sleep for a long time." She put her feet up again. "So if you guys could try and control yourselves and keep the loud sex to a minimum that would be super."

It was Gretchen's turn to feel her face heat.

Claire shook her head at their companion. "I'll get you a pillow and extra blanket."

Gretchen followed her into the bedroom.

"I think this is going really well, don't you?" Claire whispered dryly once they were out of Elle's earshot. She pulled a spare blanket off the foot of the bed.

"Hush." Gretchen smiled teasingly. "So...she's cute."

"_Oh come on_!"

She shrugged. "I don't know. A moonlit beach sounds pretty romantic to me."

Claire paused, pillow in hand, and looked down. "It's not what you think."

"It's okay, really." Gretchen's smile widened. "I know how you feel about us so I'm not jealous. I think it is kind of sweet, actually. You could have told me though; I wouldn't have minded that you had a—"

"Elle died on that beach," Claire blurted, taking extra care to keep her voice low. "She was killed and her body set on fire. I tracked her down and brought her back with my blood.

"Her dad and my dad knew each other at the Company—we were originally assignments to them. Bob Bishop turned his girl over when she started showing signs of powers; my dad kept me from them. She's what I could have been if the Company had gotten a hold of me. They abused her and her ability. I owe her because save for a good and loving parent that's me out there.

"Whatever you are thinking, we aren't, weren't."

Gretchen stared wide eyed at her. "You—?"

"It's complicated."

There were parts of being a special that Gretchen didn't understand, that she knew she would always lack full awareness of as a non, but she never expected something like that. She knew Claire could heal others, but...

"I'll give you the details later. All of them and you can ask whatever you want. But after Elle's gone with dad. Okay?"

Gretchen nodded. "Yeah." She stepped out of Claire's way but stopped her just short of the half closed door. "Are _you_ okay?"

Claire glanced back and paused for a long moment. "I don't know yet."

Gretchen waited until she heard Claire move deeper into the main room before inching closer to the door and peering out at the specials.

Claire handed Elle the pillow and placed the blanket over her, tucking it around like she was comforting a scared child. Straightening a folded over end, she sank to her haunches beside the sofa and let out a deep breath. "What exactly have you gotten yourself into, Elle?"

"Not counting this moment...I've actually been doing good," she said. "Trying to anyway."

"That's great." Claire licked her lips and seemed to decide how to proceed. "I didn't even know you were back in the country. Last I heard you were looking for Claude again."

Narrow shoulders shifted under the blanket. "Didn't find him. Hooked up with some other specials instead. We help people...well, they help people and I mostly tag along as muscle. But I think you'd be pr—happy with what I've been doing this time around."

Claire balanced one elbow on a knee and set her chin on the palm of her hand. The two specials regarded each other. "You could have looked me up before now. I know you like grand entrances but this is a new one even for you."

"Yeah, well, you're the Newsweek cover girl and I lost my press credentials a while ago. I don't care to be around reporters; they are bad for business."

"Is that the only reason?"

"You wanted to be normal and have the whole Felicity experience." She smiled. "Normal ain't me so what were we supposed to do?"

Claire ducked her head once in acknowledgment. "Well, like you said I'm in the papers now—we all are—so normal is different."

Elle's gaze flicked toward the bedroom and Gretchen almost took a step back, afraid she'd been caught eavesdropping. "Yeah there is a new type of normal." She breathed deep and added, "Listen, this is cozy with the bonding and all but if you want me to go I will. You two have this whole footprints on the ceiling vibe going and I don't want to get in the way of anything."

"You are welcome here, Elle. As long as you like."

She mumbled something about regret Gretchen couldn't fully make out. Claire could however and she immediately shook her head and leaned forward for emphasis. "That's not true—don't ever think that."

Elle surprisingly seemed to settle deeper into the cushions with that assurance, momentarily at ease, and pulled the blanket up to her chin. "Do something for me, Cheerleader?"

"Hmm?"

"Keep the door locked until Noah gets here? Don't open it for anyone, even if you think you know them."

Claire stared at her, harder and reading more between the lines than Gretchen could, and finally stood and walked to the door. She put the chain on and threw the deadbolt. Moving back she flipped the lights off, leaving only the dim predawn light coming through the curtains for illumination.

Gretchen inched back but Claire didn't head for the bedroom right away. She sat on the coffee table, across from Elle. "How bad is this thing really?"

"Bad enough for me to come here. But I'm going to fix it though."

Claire nodded. She leaned forward and brushed hair out of Elle's face. "We'll get it figured out tomorrow with dad."

Gretchen didn't see Elle close her eyes but heard her breathing start to slow as sleep took hold. Claire stayed until Elle had dropped off, smoothing the special's unevenly chopped hair.

Her heart ached for both women. The weight of their history was palpable and she could see beyond it even if they could not. Claire reflected it in the way she touched Elle, looked at her, and behaved between the three of them. It was more than duty or because they were both daughters of the Company on mirrored paths.

Claire was in love with Elle.

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Mr. Bennet called back in the afternoon.

While Gretchen looked on Claire stood off to the side and spoke to him a hushed tone. Of the three of them, only Elle still slept. Completely exhausted from whatever she'd been through the day before, the special didn't stir as the day began or when Claire and Gretchen started creeping around the room.

More curious than jealous, Gretchen took the opportunity to get more of the story out of Claire. Mostly she heard about Elle the Company agent and little about whatever history they shared together. Mindful of not asking for details of the resurrection while Elle was still with them, Gretchen nevertheless wanted to know. She had known Claire could heal from just about anything, and that she wouldn't age, but to bring other people back from death was something she hadn't fully taken in yet. And from what she had put together, Elle hadn't been just in the need of CPR dead but long term _dead_ dead.

It didn't change anything—she still loved Claire and wasn't going anywhere—but it did make her wonder about the limits of Claire's ability. And what it might mean in the grand scheme of things. She remembered some of the less than favorable words her parents had said once they learned about specials. _Oh God_, she thought. _What would that church group always talking about specials on the news say if they ever found out about a woman capable of granting resurrection_?

In the back of her mind she added a new set of fears to what would happen if unfriendly non specials ever got a hold of Claire.

Bennet's call had interrupted any further questions.

Claire peered out the window—having never strayed far from it after Elle's warning—and brought him up to speed about the agent finding them. Gretchen gave her space and privacy. Instead of listening in on the phone call, she focused on the sleeping woman in front of her. Elle's brow crinkled and twitched as she dreamed.

Sparing a glance at Claire still on the phone, Gretchen inched closer to Elle. She couldn't help but be curious about the young special. Wrapped up in Elle were two sides of Claire she didn't know much about: ability and the Company.

Mr. Bennet was mysterious and at times a little scary, but she wrote that off to the fact she was dating his daughter. Not really a good position to ask about the Company. And there were things about being a special she felt Claire wouldn't tell her, just to protect her from the dangers of that lifestyle.

Here was Elle Bishop, both of those things in one attractive blonde package.

Elle drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "My power is knowing when people are watching me," she said.

Caught, Gretchen jerked back and smiled bashfully. "Is it really?"

She opened her eyes and Gretchen saw humor along with blue. "That'd be a pretty bad one, wouldn't it?" The special stretched and pulled herself upright.

"Certainly not as good as being invisible."

"Nah, I fought an invisible man and won." Now it was Elle's turn to look over at Claire and then bite her lip as though she was about to do something naughty. "Watch this, Chestnut." She held both hands palm side up and blue-white arcs of electricity began jumping back and forth between her fingers.

The lightning was small but bright—each discharge of power making her see spots—and she could smell a faint odor of ozone.

Gretchen watched with her mouth open in awe. "Holy crap."

Elle laughed with pure delight and flexed her fingers. The arcs of power responded to her wishes and pooled over each palm in glowing orbs. The air crackled around them and even from where she sat Gretchen could feel small hairs stand on end.

"Electrical control," she said, realizing. _Lady Zeus_. "Of course. Very hard to master?"

Elle shrugged and closed her fists, killing the power. "I've had years of practice."

"Done showing off?" Claire asked, watching them together.

"Hey, Doe Eyes asked. Not my fault if she's got a hard on for specials."

A little smile tugged at Claire's lips and Gretchen saw her try and suppress it. "I talked to my dad and told him about this villain you mentioned. He's on his way up now...my dad, not the villain."

"Cool." Elle stretched again and stood. "Well, I guess that's that then."

Claire spoke before Gretchen. "Wait. He's still a couple of hours out. There's a small marina a few miles from here—he suggested we meet up with him there. It should be deserted so we won't have to worry about anyone finding us or overhearing. In the meantime…as long as it was safe…I thought we could get lunch or something, the three of us."

Elle stared at her for a long beat. "I just got up."

"Fine. Breakfast then. Come on, how long has it been since you've had a real meal?"

Elle moved her gaze to Gretchen, as though looking for permission to play outside.

"You're welcome to a bath too," Gretchen said as an acknowledgment. She felt proud for Claire that she was the one to suggest lunch. Both specials were allowed to enjoy each other's company. "I already left towels out for you. I'm sure Mr. Bennet will understand if we are a little late."

Elle shook her head and she and Claire said as one, "Short showers only."

Claire lost her battle with the smile and her cheeks flushed again. "We, ah, had to share a room the last time we were in New Jersey. Elle doesn't exactly take up all the hot water."

_Water sensitivity_, Gretchen thought. _Of course_.

Elle stepped around her and walked to the bathroom, mumbling something that sounded like, "Should have slept in the car. Less weird."

Gretchen waited until the door clicked shut before she shot Claire a teasing look. "So, tell me about New Jersey."

Claire peered around the window curtain again. "It's the Garden State."

…

…

Elle sat on the edge of the tub while the shower ran behind her. The roar of it filled the small bathroom and cut her off from the rest of the hotel—at least that was how it felt. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed both fists hard against her temples.

She could feel Kane moving around in her skull.

__

How long can you keep this act up before they find out? And when they do what are they going to think?

_You are going to ruin things for her. I know you want to; I can feel it every time you look at the two of them together. How long do you think you can hide it from them? Playing uninterested and coy. You are neither of those things._

_ Maybe I was wrong. You must really hate Claire after all. Usually people want those they love to be happy. But then again you aren't capable of much beyond your own self-interests, are you?_

Elle didn't bother talking back to the voice. She waited it out, imagined him getting further away, and eventually felt him fade, for now anyway. Taking only deep breaths, she was surprised to feel one hitch in her throat.

Bob hadn't put up with much weakness when she was little. Not when it came to her ability or even personal things like her mother. It was important, he instructed, to recognize failings in others so she would know how to use them against her enemies. Any in her was unacceptable.

Claire and Gretchen would notice if she stayed in the bathroom too long, but Elle figured she had at least a few minutes more before they knocked. Hot tears of confusion leaked out around tightly closed eyes. She had those few minutes to pull herself together. Once Noah was here she could move on and didn't have to worry about feeling like this.

…

…

Nicholas fought the temptation to return to his physical body for rest. The world of day dreams and impulses flashed around him, thoughts an ever present low buzz, as he raced away from Bishop.

This was the most he'd drawn on his ability since launching his plan to restore his body and gift to full strength. The other agents were easy and required very little effort on his part. A surprising number of former Primatech employees were open to his ability. Once he slipped into their minds, they were his.

William Chase had cried and thought about his children but had been unable to stop his hands from tying his own noose. A field agent before retiring to a desk, those experiences had often returned in his dreams. The stress of those nightmares was enough for Nicholas to slip in and make Chase his puppet.

When Nicholas realize that Bishop had actually gone to Claire Bennet instead of just learning her location, he tried to do the same to her but something blocked him from gaining full control. He almost had her while she slept, but was thrown out before he could lock away her will.

Her Company training for resisting telepaths wasn't any stronger than the other agents he'd bent. Perhaps it was because she was one of his most mentally damaged subjects? Or maybe due to her return to life? It was something he looked forward to exploring further when he was again at full strength.

As much as he loved the idea of Elle watching as her body rebelled and attacked Bennet to procure the blood he needed, helpless to stop it, that would have to be simply her nightmare right now. He saved the idea and decided to make her experience that reality for a long time once he broke her fully.

Presently he saw through two sets of eyes. The familiar hollowed out vessel of Willie Loomis settled around him while he could sense the new presence of John Holman in the van's passenger seat. Power hummed underneath John's skin, waiting for release after so many years of non use. There was still a tiny spark of resistance buried deep but it wouldn't be able to alter what Nicholas wanted him to do.

Using knowledge taken from Bishop, Nicholas directed Willie where to go.

They weren't far away now.

…

…

"Looks like a storm is coming," Gretchen said.

Elle bent her neck enough to look at the sky through the windshield.

"Yeah," Claire said, "there's a chance of a thunderstorm tonight. Before all this I had figured you and I would be spending a cozy night together in the hotel listening to the storm."

"Uh. The thought of that makes my skin crawl," Elle mumbled. At their surprised glances she added, "Not the thing with you two part—I just don't like hearing rain."

The three women settled into silence again.

Claire had parked Gretchen's car along the dirt path leading to the dock. It was just the sort of place a clandestine Company meeting should take place, Gretchen thought. Mr. Bennet was right, the marina was empty this late in the day—not that it looked like it was normally very busy. Extending out into the water were long wooden wharves with large and small boats tied up. Many of them were still covered with tarps from the winter season. Further out in the bay were buoys that bobbed unattended in the cold, choppy water.

Man made seawalls circled the far side of the marina and pushed out into the water and kept the dock separate from the main township. The Cube sat low enough next to them that the women would see any approaching car first. Unless someone knew to look for them, they were completely invisible to any passing traffic.

_Point for __invisibility_, Gretchen thought cheerfully.

The sun was close enough to the horizon behind them to cast a yellow-orange glow over everything that only seemed to make the clouds above them darker. That mixed with the smell of salt in the air made Gretchen think this would be a great romantic spot…if not for the Company business and the awkwardness still rolling off the two girls in the front seats.

Their abbreviated day of a meal and idle car chatter had lessened it somewhat and both specials seemed a little more at ease with each other. Claire several times started to relax fully but then seemed to catch herself and guilt would flash over her face and she'd pull back. That in turn would cause Elle to also pull inward again.

Later, Gretchen would have to talk to Claire and make her understand things like that didn't bother her. She'd been around long enough to know it was possible to love more than one person at once. She was honest with Claire and knew Claire was honest in return. That more than anything was important to making a relationship, no matter what its form, work.

As for Elle, Gretchen didn't know her well enough to guess how she felt. The agent seemed confused about many things and distracted. At times it seemed like she was listening to something only she could hear. She knew Elle was solely focused on stopping the telepath.

Gretchen understood that. There were certainly more important things going on than updating her Facebook status. If the Nicholas threat was over and Elle was still with Mr. Bennet when they returned from New York maybe the three of them could meet up again.

Elle was nice to her and made Claire happy. Plus it would give her a chance to learn more about the special lifestyle from Elle—she was much more agreeable to her than the carnival.

"Here he comes," Claire said.

Elle squinted and nodded. "Good eyes, Cheerleader." She popped the door.

Claire and Gretchen followed her out. The three of them watched as Mr. Bennet swung his car slowly around the dirt trail and parked parallel to them, with the nose of his sedan pointing back toward the road instead of the water like their car.

Gretchen shyly hung back as he climbed out, so did Elle she noticed.

Mr. Bennet had taken off his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. His tie was loose and he looked like he'd been driving for a long time. Gretchen hadn't thought to ask where he was coming from—she just assumed Washington but from his haggard expression possibly farther. Really, she wasn't sure what was taking up so much of his time these days.

Claire ran to him and hugged him.

"Hello, princess," he said into her hair.

Elle watched the father-daughter greeting without expression. When Claire stepped away, taking up position against Bennet's car, she came forward. "Hey, Noah. Long time no see."

"Elle." Behind his glasses his gaze moved up and down the special, as though searching her for visible weapons. "How have you been?"

"Dead. You?"

"Living."

Gretchen traded a look with Claire. _What did I miss_?

"Dad, she came to me for help. And she needs yours to stop a special targeting ex agents."

"Damn twelve steps," Elle muttered low enough for only Gretchen standing close by to hear. "Noah, I'm sorry for attacking you the last time we met. It was wrong and I apologize."

"You didn't just attack me."

"I've already been forgiven for that."

Claire stepped up next to her father. "She has. You need to listen to her now."

He relaxed slightly—Gretchen knew the power of that voice—and nodded once. "Nicholas?"

Around them the wind began to pick up; Gretchen pulled absently at hair stuck to the corner of her mouth.

Elle nodded. "He got himself out of the Company facility where we left him to rot."

"How is that possible? He was brain dead."

"I'm thinking more body dead than brain dead. His attacks on me have all been mental—and I think he did the same thing to Chase, Herts, and several others that have all died in the past few weeks.

"I think he's planning on pulling an Arthur Petrelli to get back into Olympic shape."

Mr. Bennet looked at Claire. "If I remember right, Nicholas Kane was just a telepath without any other abilities. He can't steal or mimic powers."

"No, but he can steal blood."

Realization hit Noah and Claire moments before Gretchen figured it out. "Claire's a target?"

"Yeah, that's how he put it."

A gust of wind slammed into Gretchen hard enough to nearly knock her down. She backed up until she was against the driver side of her car.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Elle's arms were stiff against her body and she began counting her fingers. "Because I can't make you go into hiding or protect you the same way he can." She jerked her chin in Bennet's direction. "You weren't in immediate danger as long as I was there. Sorry I lied to you, Claire."

Claire opened her mouth to protest but then stopped and blinked in surprise, seemingly at the second apology and at hearing her real name from Elle.

"I've been working with Micah," Elle continued. "Contact him, Noah, and use him to keep these two off the grid for a few days. I'm going after Nicholas."

"Alone?" He was almost shouting over the wind now.

Elle gave a small grin. "Back in your Company cell, you said it best why Daddy never gave me a permanent partner." She shrugged. "What's the worst he can do? Kill me?"

"A telepath can do a lot to you, Elle."

Gretchen blinked sand out of her eyes. There was a lot of sand and dirt whipping around now, she noticed. A feeling along the back of her neck like she was being watched made her look back to the water.

"All the more reason why I need to kill him while he's still smoke and mirrors."

Claire picked that time to interject. "Elle—"

"Who's that?" Gretchen asked, pointing.

All eyes snapped up and followed where she indicated. Standing just off the main pier was a grungy man hunched over. His hair was long and unkempt and he was dressed in several layers of dirty clothes. He didn't move from his position but did extend both arms over his head.

For a moment she thought he was going to dive backward off the dock but then she realized he was directing an ability. Another gust of wind, stronger than the others before, hit her and forced her back against the car.

The two Company agents responded immediately. Lightning formed along Elle's arms and a gun appeared almost as fast in Noah's hand. "Get in the car, Claire!"

Elle shouted over her shoulder, "You too, Doe Eyes."

A thick wall of sand and dirt hit them and then billowed upward in a tornado effect that blocked out the sun and nearly everything else. She heard Noah firing blindly into the cloud and saw Elle sending bolts into the air above where the man had stood. She realized what the special was doing. Instead of trying to hit the man, she was attempting to cast enough light to make him visible for Noah to catch sight of him.

It was a split second decision to try wounding the man instead of killing him outright but before it could work the wind picked up stones from the ground. They were small, some only as big as her fingernail, but razor sharp flying with such speed behind them.

Gretchen heard one hit the passenger side window and crack it. She screamed as they began pelting her face. Hands grabbed her from behind and forced her into the Cube. "Get in," Elle yelled next to her ear. "Noah, take Claire; I've got Berg."

Claire was saying something too but her voice was lost in the howling wind. Gretchen wasn't sure it was possible but its speed seemed to increase. She fumbled twice getting the engine started, grateful that Claire had left the keys in the ignition, and saw brake lights glow as Noah's car dropped into gear.

Two bolts of lightning flew toward the center of the swirling sandstorm and Elle dropped onto the backseat. "Go!" she ordered.

Gretchen put the car into drive and tried to orient herself. She lightly pressed the gas down and rolled forward. Taillights lit one last time in her rearview mirror and Claire and Mr. Bennet were gone.

"His range for wind this strong shouldn't be much more than a few hundred yards, if even that," Elle said in a rush behind her. "If he could strike farther than that we would've been pinned down before even seeing him. Just keep going until we are clear."

Gretchen picked up speed and did her best to visualize where the dirt road ended and the dock began. If she went too far ahead and missed the turn she'd end up going off the end into the water, but if she turned too soon she would smash against storm barriers.

This wasn't a romantic place at all, she decided.

Wind slammed into the car and Gretchen felt some of the traction slip. It was like they were hydroplaning on wind. Sand began pouring in through the air vents and blowing around the cab in a miniature version of the storm still raging outside.

"Shit!" Elle leaned over the center divide and began slapping vents shut.

Gretchen gave the car more gas and gripped the wheel with both hands. She wasn't sure she was in full control of the vehicle. Wind hit them with enough force to make the frame groan and windows rattle in their tracks. The rear end fishtailed and the passenger side tires bounced against something hard. The concussion was enough to throw Elle through the air. She hit the roof hard and landed awkwardly on the back floor.

"Elle!" It happened again and Gretchen realized they weren't running over things but actually being lifted into the air and dropped back down. "Oh God."

She turned the wheel sharply into the direction of the wind lifting them. It kept them from going airborne again but the wind still caught enough of the rear to overcorrect the angle and nearly spin her completely around. She was driving blind and could only guess where those large storm breakers were now.

The wind gave them a small reprieve in this direction and Gretchen pressed the gas pedal to the floor. How many yards had Elle said until safety? Up ahead she could make out a little sliver of light peeking through the blowing dirt and sand, orange like the setting sun. Did that mean they were driving west? That was the way they wanted to go, right?

The light glistened the closer they traveled to it, like it was a mirage…or a reflection. Beneath the tires she heard the clunk of wooden planks.

Elle cursed again and pulled herself up. There was blood running freely down her face. She flicked her hand twice and four balls of lightning filled the car. One sizzled past Gretchen's ear and shattered the window beside her. The remaining three destroyed the other windows.

Gretchen screamed again as the pressure difference blew the glass shards and sand outward. Her ears popped with the sudden change. She didn't understand what was happening and then she felt the car leave the ground again. It was different this time as they raced forward in a heady rush.

The car hit the water fast and with the force of slamming into a brick wall. The airbag deployed in Gretchen's face and the impact left her dazed; black spots danced across her vision. Something pulled at her arm, dragging her toward the window. _They had to get out before the water got in_.

That was her last thought before dropping off completely and then there was nothing but quiet and darkness.

**TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

The fog of unconsciousness—_did I hit my head on something?_—snapped almost painfully away when Gretchen became aware of the cold around her. And the wetness. She was in the water. Jerking sharply she gasped and filled her mouth with water.

Her legs kicked automatically and fear burned away the rest of the sleepy haze. Arms thrashed as she tried to right herself and find which way was up.

Gretchen's head broke the surface almost immediately and she began gulping down air. Her lungs protested once, twice, and the saltwater in her stomach threatened to come back up. _Not yet. Find dry land first_.

_Elle_?

Gretchen blinked her eyes clear and looked around, spotting the long wooden legs of the dock off to her right. Beyond it she could see the twinkling lights of the city line. Riding the crests of waves, she tried to find Elle. Panic welled up again. Was she still in the car?

No. Gretchen remembered them both getting out. The blonde wouldn't have gone back to shore and just left her, would she? No, Claire willingly gave her help and trusted her. No one worthy of that would have abandoned her.

Plus Elle had saved her life by getting her away from that special and again when the car was sinking.

The sun was almost down and the clouds directly over head dark; the dim glow from the city didn't offer much help in her search. After a couple of minutes of fruitless looking that made her panic grow with each second, she saw the prone form slowly bobbing in the waves.

"Oh my God." Gretchen kicked over to her. Elle floated on her back, completely still with arms loosely akimbo. Her jaggedly cut hair fanned out underneath her head.

Gretchen reached her and felt for a pulse. Her fingers were numb and it took a long moment to find it. Disturbingly slow but there. Simultaneously relieved and overwhelmed, Gretchen swam around Elle and pulled the smaller woman against her body.

She leaned back into the water and began kicking toward shore. Elle's head rolled and bummed against her chin with each slap of a wave, but her airway stayed clear. Gretchen wasn't as lucky. She swam mostly blind and choked every time the water surged and plunged her beneath it.

Gretchen kept Elle held at an angle so she wouldn't drown. The water was cold around them and she could feel what little heat they had left ebbing away. Her clothes felt fifty pounds heavier and the deadweight she was dragging threatened to sink them both.

Not a strong swimmer, Gretchen considered a backyard pool her limit. And even then she mostly just liked to float and splash. Ignoring the burning in her arms and legs, she fell into a steady rhythm of kick, kick, stroke, check that Elle was still breathing. Kick, kick, stroke, check that Elle was still breathing. Repeat.

Eventually she heard the sound of waves slapping against boat hulls. They were back. Gretchen almost called out for help but stopped when she remembered the special that had attacked them. Was he still up there waiting for them? Or had he gone after Mr. Bennet and Claire?

Fresh worry, this time for her girlfriend, stabbed through her.

_No_, she thought. _Focus on this_. _Mr. Bennet is more than capable of keeping Claire safe, and she isn't easy to hurt_.

Elle was shivering and Gretchen forced herself back to the matter at hand. Was it wrong to come back here? Did she just bring them back to what they had been running from? There was no where else to go. It was too dark and cold to float down the coast looking for help.

They needed to get out of the water and dry sooner rather than later.

A grumble sounded far away and for a moment she thought it was a motorboat. The police or the special? But then the noise rolled away and she realized it was thunder. Faintly she remembered Claire mentioning a storm coming in. A cozy night together. Right.

Gretchen scanned the marina and tried to find a boat she could use to get Elle dry and look around the pier. _Yeah, he's just going to stand around and wait for you to spot him_.

Most of the nearby slips were empty with only a few small fishing boats berthed. Those felt too exposed if someone was still looking for them or for protection when it started to rain. Gretchen kicked gently into the rising surf and moved deeper into the shadows of the boats.

Almost ready to give up and turn back to the dock, Gretchen found a cuddy half concealed by a tarp. Two of the tie downs holding the canvas in place had snapped and whipped freely in the breeze. It didn't look like anyone had been by to tend the boat in some time.

Gretchen pressed numb fingers to the hull as she dragged Elle aft toward the diving platform. The swell lifted them just enough for her to grab the ladder and pull herself halfway up. She leveraged herself against the boat and pulled Elle up with an arm around her narrow waist. Sharp pain exploded beneath her shoulders as the hull dug into her back.

Water sluiced from them and fell loudly back into the bay. She fought the urge to shush the annoying and telling noise and yanked even harder. Their sodden clothes had felt cumbersome in the water, but out of it felt like she was dead lifting iron.

Her sneakers slipped on the last ladder rung and she fell backward onto the cuddy's deck. Elle landed on top of her in a jumble of limbs.

Gretchen rolled to the side and lay like that for a moment, catching her breath, and staring up at the low hanging clouds. She could smell the rain now. It mixed with the rusty scent of the old cuddy. Temptation to fall asleep right there was strong. She was tired and wanted to wake up finding all this was just a nightmare. Claire would curl up next to her and laugh because she was talking in her sleep again.

Gretchen smiled and found a little strength left inside. Making sure Elle was safe from falling back into the water, Gretchen rose to a crouch and peered into the darkness around the dock. She didn't see emergency lights or hear people moving around up there. Had the sandstorm kept the people in town from seeing the accident? Was she completely on her own?

She didn't see any sign of the special that had attacked them either. Mr. Bennet and Claire were probably miles from here by now. It struck her for the first time that their car was gone and she had no way of getting help or back to Claire.

It felt like a heavy weight settling on her chest. Another rumble of thunder, closer this time, sounded and only made her feel worse.

Gretchen crawled back to Elle's prone form and felt along the tarp, ignoring the crusty bird droppings that turned to powder in her hands, until she found one of those loose tie downs. Reeling it in, she pulled the canvas back until she could slip Elle underneath to the main deck.

The smell of rust and must was almost choking down there. Gretchen followed the loose tarp along the portside. Another tie snapped off and the canvas started flapping quickly in the breeze.

Two swift kicks to the cabin door were enough to snap the locking chain and force it open. It was easier than she had expected. _A couple of hours with a villain and I'm already breaking and entering_, she thought wryly. _Claire and Mr. Bennet would be so proud._

With the portholes fully covered by the tarp no light made it into the cuddy's hold. Even with her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she could only make out vague shapes in the darkness. Gretchen went down into the hatchway first. Standing on the short ladder she hooked her hands through Elle's armpits and pulled her unceremoniously down with her.

Again they fell backward but this time they hit something soft. A berth, she realized. At least something was going right. Gretchen shifted Elle off to the side and climbed to her feet. It took several minutes of searching but she finally found a small emergency kit mounted next to the hatchway. Inside was a penlight.

Gretchen secured the hatch and double checked that all the portholes were covered before twisting the light to the on position. Fortunately the batteries were in better shape than the bungee cords outside. Light, enough to blind her at first, filled the narrow cabin.

Immediately a sense of safety filled her. It felt like she'd been in the dark for hours. As her eyes adjusted, Gretchen began looking through the emergency kit. She promised herself she'd leave money for whatever she used. This did qualify as a big old emergency.

Now that they had some shelter and were depruning she could wonder about the thing that had been chewing at the corner of her mind since finding Elle. Why hadn't the blonde woken up?

Elle lay sprawled across the berth, soaked to the wet rat level. Using the found penlight and all the first aid training she picked up in the two weeks she was a girl scout, Gretchen bent to examine her. Her skin was pale and she was trembling with chill, but her breathing was regular. The pulse beating in the side of her neck was stronger. Running a hand along the base of Elle's skull, Gretchen felt a knot starting to form above her left ear.

_A concussion_? Gretchen thought, calling upon too many reruns of House on top of the girl scout education now. Elle needed to wake up and stay conscious until she could see a real doctor.

Gretchen bit her lip to keep it from quivering; she was cold too. Hypothermia was next on her checklist. She tapped Elle's cheek and whispered her name. At first the special didn't respond but then a flash of blue sparks shot from her hands and made Gretchen jerk back and give a yelp. She blinked away after image spots.

It was like a transformer circuit had threatened to blow.

But Elle rolled her head under her own power and groaned.

Still a little freaked, Gretchen took that as a good sign and inched closer again. Inside the kit were several tightly bundled thermal blankets; she grabbed one and unfolded it. Gretchen was aware the growing ache in her limbs was from more than just a long swim; her core temperature was very low. She couldn't stop shaking and pins and needles were working their way up her fingers and hands.

Plus with a head injury Elle was looking at a different kind of shock if she didn't get warm soon.

Gretchen couldn't put it off any longer. The adrenaline that had carried her this far was wearing off and she was afraid she'd pass out where she stood when it was gone.

Double checking that the hatch was secure and her penlight didn't shine directly on any porthole, Gretchen walked back to the berth and began stripping off her clothes. She winced when she peeled her socks off her skin and dropped them like heavy rags on the floor. Clad only in her bra and underwear, she began shivering even more violently.

Hanging the clothes as best she could around the small space to dry, she turned her attention to Elle. It was awkward without Elle's aid, but Gretchen couldn't help but reflect that if there'd been more of this in the scouts she probably would have lasted longer than a few weeks. Hell, she would have earned the freakin' Gold Award if that was the case. Elle's jeans went over the back of a chair and her shoes went in the corner.

Still amused by her own wit (and wondering if it was the first signs of delirium) Gretchen tugged at Elle's black t-shirt. The cloth squished in her fists. Her head came free with a wet pop and Gretchen pulled it the rest of the way off. And became aware with a start that Elle Bishop and completely naked from the waist up.

_Oh_.

Gretchen stared for just a moment before tossing the t-shirt aside and wrapping her in one of the thermal blankets.

"Sorry," she said to Elle and the imaginary Claire in her head rolling her eyes. "Normally I've known people longer than a day before I get their clothes off." She paused. "Well there was that one time but you don't care about that."

Throwing a second blanket around her shoulders, Gretchen crawled in beside Elle, pulled her close, and tucked a third blanket around them both. She extinguished the penlight.

Instantly she felt warmth beginning to build under her skin again. The berth was soft and welcoming underneath her. Outside she could hear the storm whipping up. The marina offered a little protection from the worst of the waves, but she could still feel the steady whack of the water against the hull. It was rhythmic, down and silent followed by up and a thump, and even when thunder grumbled overhead she felt herself lulled and at rest.

She thought about Claire again, wondering if she got away in time.

After a little while of floating in and out of consciousness Elle stirred and then snuggled closer; her hands curling under her chin like a child making little fists. Gretchen couldn't help but smile and draped a friendly arm over her companion. A Company agent like Mr. Bennet, Elle Bishop probably didn't let many people see her this way. The grin wilted a little when she remembered her first impression of Elle was of a lonely woman.

"Elle, you need to wake up." Gretchen shook her slightly. "Open your eyes."

"Mmm?"

"That's it. You hurt your head and need to stay awake."

Elle tried to sit up but Gretchen held her in place. "Take it slow. We're safe; I got us into a boat. I wasn't sure if Nicholas was—"

Sparks jumped from her fingers again and Gretchen smelled scorched blanket. _One way to keep us warm_, she thought. Even through two layers of thermal she could feel the power crackling under Elle skin. Unable to help herself, Gretchen wondered if touching her flesh would send a current through her body. No wonder Claire liked it.

Another groan and Elle untangled an arm from Gretchen's gift wrapping job and pressed a hand against her temple. "I'm okay," she mumbled.

Gretchen wasn't sure if that was a statement or question but answered anyway. "You have a nasty goose egg forming, but otherwise yeah. Mr. Bennet and Claire got away, I think. You saved me."

Elle craned her neck enough to take in the sight of the cuddy lit by the blue-white glow of her ability. "A little rescue job of your own, huh?" She glanced down at their blanket wrapped forms. "And something extra for the road?"

A flush spread through Gretchen. "No…um, we were both soaking wet. From the water. And cold so I did—"

"It's fine." She settled back down and let the blue-white glow die. "Not bad, Doe Eyes. Are you sure you don't have an ability?"

"Just being awesome." Gretchen laughed nervously and then mentally kicked herself. _Stupid. What is wrong with me_?

"Yeah, you and me both, " she said tiredly. "When this is over I'm going to need some cheerleader blood or a couple hundred Advils to cure this headache.

"What happened to the car?"

"It went hydro."

"Oh. Sorry about that."

"It's okay." Gretchen didn't know what else to say so she just listened to the lap of waves. "I'm sure they got away," she suddenly blurted. "I mean, I saw them driving away when it happened."

Elle stopped rubbing her temples long enough to peer back at her. "Pom Pom's fine. She's with Noah and, trust me, I know what it is like to be between him and her. Not a fun place to stand."

"Oh." Gretchen scooted back, more than a little relieved at Elle's sureness. "He threatened me, too, once."

"Not a fan of the sapphic intent toward Claire-bear, huh?"

"What? Oh no, not that—it's a long story."

The mattress squeaked a little as Elle shifted and tugged the blankets tighter around her body. "Well, we're not going anywhere until morning." To prove her point a rumble of thunder sounded. "I don't like storms," she said again.

"I don't like that…he might still be out there somewhere. Was that Nicholas?"

"The special's gone," Elle said. "And that wasn't him, at least not physically. He was using some poor crazy his ability wormed its way into. You don't have to worry about meeting Kane; his power doesn't let him stay away from his actual self for long periods of time and he wouldn't chance bringing his body here. He knew if he did that, I'd kill him. He's fond of reminding me what I'm capable of. That's why he was using a proxy to follow us." She fell into silence and for a long while there was no sound except the rain hitting the tarp outside.

Gretchen thought about the special next to her, replaying the attack on the dock over and over in her mind. She didn't have Bennet's training or Claire's experience but knew that Elle hated water and still helped get her out of the car. Gretchen had barely been conscious after the airbag went off. She couldn't remember most of what happened immediately after, just Elle's hands tugging at her as water poured into the car.

Claire had called her a villain but still helped her, loved her even, and Mr. Bennet treated her as though she was unstable and dangerous. Like she was missing something inside. She didn't know Elle well enough to say for sure, maybe they were right and she just acted how she believed normal people behaved. Sociopaths did that. Or maybe there was something buried deep that saved her because that is what Claire would have wanted her to do. If that was the case, well, maybe that was okay in its own way too.

Gretchen stared into the darkness and sighed. She was thinking too much. Fatigue was taking its toll and she was just mental babbling. She wished Claire was next to her.

"Did I drown?" Elle suddenly asked, jarring Gretchen from her musing. "When I was out did I drown? Was I dead again?"

It took Gretchen a second to process that last question. "No. You just hit your head. I woke up soon after and had you the whole time. Nothing bad was going to happen to you."

Elle made a noncommittal noise and shuddered with either cold, relief, or something else Gretchen couldn't imagine having to feel. She slipped an arm around her again and rubbed warmth into a bare shoulder. "You're wrong, you know. You are more than a killer—I see that even if you don't.

"Tracking down the special targeting agents, warning Mr. Bennet, and pulling me out of the car all sound pretty heroic to me."

Damp hair fell across Gretchen's chin as Elle rolled into the embrace; it smelled like salt and a day at the beach. Separated by only a couple of blankets, she felt Elle's tiny frame pressed against her. A leg hooked around hers and a hand came to a comfortable rest on her hip.

Gretchen felt a subtle shift in the special and thought, _Jesus this could get out of hand_.

Elle held on to her for several minutes and even through the blankets Gretchen could feel the pounding of the other woman 's heart. _I should say something here_. How could she get her to understand something like this without crushing her? There were levels of complexity that had to go through Claire before anything else.

She had the feeling Elle wasn't used to people being close or nice to her like this and had gotten the wrong idea. Well, the idea was there but the timing was off by days, weeks, or months. She had to right this quickly before it got out of hand.

Elle moved first. She lifted herself until the blanket over her shoulders fell back; goosebumps spread anew over bare skin. She gave a predatory smile.

Gretchen gripped Elle's waist and held her firmly back. "Elle…"

"Claire's lucky, you know. There are a lot of nons out there scared of specials, but you aren't like that, are you?."

"No, but—"

Fingers moved along the blanket wrapped around Gretchen's body. "She won't have to know what it's like to have someone pull away because they don't want her touching them." A strange gleam came to Elle's eyes, like she was seeing something that wasn't there. "Been such a long time."

Gretchen shifted and tried to sit up, not letting her hands move from Elle's waist. It felt like she was leaning forward with most of her weight now. Her blanket slipped down as she moved.

A charge filled the air and made Gretchen's small hairs stand on end. Power crackled around the agent while outside the thunder grumbled and tried to catch up.

Gretchen thought about how to handle this, her heart hurt for the special. Things were happening very fast and she had to be careful how she dealt with this, for both Elle and Claire's sakes.

Elle bent and left a trail of kisses down Gretchen's exposed neck. She gasped in spite of herself—a very light current flowed along that wet line. It was like a battery was licking her. That did open up several interesting possibilities…

"It's okay," Elle murmured into her skin. "We're alone and no one ever has to find out."

Never find out. That was enough to steel her resolve. "Elle," she said again, forcefully this time, and grasped a handful of hair and pulled her head gently back. "I don't do that. I don't keep secrets, not ones that big anyway. Claire trusts me just like I trust her."

Unhinged anger flashed in Elle's eyes and Gretchen was very much aware the charge filling the cuddy had increased dramatically. The girl above her had a deadly ability and she was well trained in its use. She had means with that power to take whatever she wanted.

But Gretchen knew she wouldn't do that. This wasn't the mad Company agent Noah was wary of; this was the woman Claire gave help to whenever she asked. The one that pulled her from the sinking car and missed Claire terribly even if she didn't know how to articulate it.

The anger vanished and in its place was sick realization. Elle swore heatedly and scrambled back. She blinked as though waking up from a nightmare. The charge in the air died and cold hit Gretchen like a physical force. All she could see was a dim shape in the shadows fumbling around the cabin.

Gretchen reached for and turned on the penlight.

Elle stalked through the cuddy, nearly naked, mumbling to herself and chewing on her thumbnail. She grabbed a shoe and slipped it on before changing her mind and kicking it across the floor. "I am the biggest fuck up in the world. He was right. Some fucking second chance."

Gretchen slid to her feet and stepped in front of her. "No you're not." She grabbed her shoulders and caught her gaze, held it. "No you are not."

Elle's face contorted and for a moment she looked like she was going to cry before switching back to anger. "I am trying so goddamn hard but I don't know what to do. She must have brought me back wrong or something. I don't know why I feel this way now—I shouldn't be able to! He says I can't and I know he's right. I think I'm supposed to do one thing but can't and then I want something else and _shouldn't_ have it either."

Gretchen kissed her. Elle tensed, her entire body going rigid, before finally her hands came up and tangled in Gretchen's damp hair.

The taller woman pulled back and gently took Elle's wrists.

Elle didn't open her eyes for several moments and when she finally did the mania had calmed in them.

"Now listen," Gretchen said. "I'm not going to cheat on Claire. And neither are you. Nothing happens without her being aware of it, okay? Everyone is either on the same page or the book doesn't get read."

Elle blinked and flashed a lopsided grin. "Listen, Chestnut, I don't know what you're thinking but she just brought me back to life—nothing else. In our community bringing someone back to life is the same as a ride to the airport for you people. It doesn't mean anything."

Gretchen gave her a knowing look.

"It doesn't." Elle grabbed one of the blankets off the floor, wrapped it around her shoulders, and sat on the berth. "Fucking cold."

Gretchen sat beside her.

"I'm dizzy," Elle said after several long minutes.

"I'm kinda hungry," Gretchen said back.

Tentatively the older woman nudged her companion and smiled slightly when she got a elbow in return. They were still sitting in easy silence hours later when the sun started coming up outside.

****

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

It took almost an hour to lose the van following them.

Claire fidgeted in the passenger seat while Noah navigated dark and narrow back roads, at times more than thirty miles an hour over the speed limit. He stayed away from the Parkway or any major road, driving in wide expanding circles that only increased his familiarity with the area and forced the much more cumbersome van chasing them to burn fuel.

The bright headlights of the van behind them had filled the car for most of the chase, casting shadows over the road ahead of them. Mindful of the special's range, Noah kept moving so the wind control ability couldn't gain enough of a purchase on the air around them to overturn the car. Large raindrops splattered against the windows but he didn't slow.

Scared for Gretchen more than herself, Claire could only stare into the passing darkness and think up horrible situations she and Elle might be in right now. Was Kane targeting them too? By scattering were they giving him exactly what he wanted?

She played with her seatbelt and tried to reassure herself that Elle was with Gretchen and she was a trained agent, a fact she'd pointed out just the night before, fully capable of keeping someone safe.

They were halfway to Trenton when their Nissan finally outlasted the van. Claire watched in the mirror as the headlights behind them pulled off the road and faded into the distance. Her resolve vanished almost as fast. "We have to go back to the dock," she said. "Turn around."

"Absolutely not."

"But—"

The glow from the dashboard reflected in his glasses. "No, Claire. She's with Elle and fine. They are long gone from the area by now. Elle knows standard protocols."

"There are protocols for ambushes like this?"

He glanced at her. "Yes, there are. Elle's a trained special and knows what to do—Gretchen will be fine. We'll meet up in the morning and Elle and I can figure out where to stash you two until this is over."

Claire sighed and leaned back. She wished she shared his conviction.

Elle had said Kane was targeting former Company agents and she had a list of people he'd already killed. That meant not only could he overpower other specials but that Elle was in danger too.

Claire adjusted her seatbelt again and bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.

Noah guided the car away from the dark county roads and back toward the Parkway. He put the gas down to the floor and quickly accelerated. She felt his gaze on her again. "Elle will be okay, too, Claire-bear."

"Yeah, I know. I didn't say I was worried about her."

"Okay," he said slowly, disbelievingly. "Is there anything else you'd like to tell me about last night? Anything she might have said or—"

"There's nothing. I hadn't spoken to her in a year and she just showed up at our door out of the blue, trying to protect us I guess. She didn't even bother contacting me after the announcement."

Another single nod—she hated that look like he knew something she didn't. "Elle said she was working with Micah—that means Molly Walker, too, no doubt.

"That's how we'll find Nicholas."

Claire thought for a minute. "She said the specials she ended up with are helping people. It would make sense, I suppose."

"Well, I might not always agree with his methods but Micah's loyalty has been consistent…But then again so has Elle's."

There was a small town in the distance; Claire stared at its glow reflecting against low hanging storm clouds. She thought about both Elle and Gretchen somewhere out in the rain and wanted to be wherever they were. "The world is different now," she mumbled, repeating herself. "She's different now. Elle has another chance to do things right. I owed her that."

"You didn't owe her anything—not to mention you can't use your ability like that. People find out, Kane found out, and it endangers you.

"Forgetting for the moment that she tried to kill you."

"And in trying she gave me back something I thought I'd lost."

Noah didn't have anything to say to that. They traveled without speaking for a long while, the orange glow of the town moving closer, and the swish of wipers clearing away rain the only sound.

"Dad, be nice to her when we meet up. For me." Claire paused, choosing her words carefully. "I don't think she has much right now, and I don't see the point in reminding her of that or of taking away what she does have."

He nodded and they fell into silence again.

"I need you to call Micah," Noah said finally. "I can't from this phone."

"I don't have his number."

Noah did a quick check of the car's mirrors, making sure they weren't being followed again. "He sent you messages as Rebel, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then he's still inside. Every technopath I met always left behind markers in systems they've hacked so they could reuse them in the future."

Claire unlocked her phone. "How?"

"Voice dialing."

She paused. "Are you kidding me?"

"Humor me."

Claire sighed and selected the voice dialing option. "Call Micah Sanders." The phone blinked once, twice, and the connecting screen appeared.

Seconds later she heard, "Hello, Claire. Is Agent Bennet with you?"

…

…

Elle and Gretchen left the marina a little after dawn.

Keeping away from early morning joggers, they started walking back into town. Their clothes had dried during the night, but Gretchen still felt a squish in her shoes with each step. With the newly risen sun behind them, they slowly moved along the paved shoulder.

Their clothes were rumpled, hair limp, and Gretchen thought they either looked like they had just lived through one of the worst nights of their lives or one of the best. Fortunately no one stopped to ask them which as they made their way back to town.

Walking into the hotel's parking lot, Gretchen glanced hopefully at each occupied space on the chance Mr. Bennet was waiting for them.

"They are long gone," Elle supplied. "Just like we should be. Grab your gear from the room and then let's light out for the territories."

"I'd kill for a shower."

Elle eyed a cleaning lady using a maintenance key to enter a nearby room. "Be careful what you wish for, Chestnut. You just might have to."

Gretchen stopped walking. "You think Kane might be here? Or that other man?"

"Honestly, probably not. Claire is more important to Nicholas right now than bagging me; he'll wait until after he has what he needs from her just to try and hurt me. He should be on Noah's trail by now, not ours." Elle didn't slow and Gretchen had to hurry to keep up.

"So this sense I'm being watched is just fruitless paranoia?"

"I'm a sadist with schizophrenia and delusions," she said matter of factly. "I'm the wrong person to ask about the right and wrong amounts of paranoia."

The suite was just as they left it yesterday, their bags tucked in a corner of the main room, and couch made up in a small bed for Elle. It felt deceptive somehow, like all of the bad things were just a dream and she was about to wake up in this safe little room to find all was right with the world.

Elle stood with her in the doorway, lost in her own thoughts. Idly Gretchen wondered if she was missing the same feeling from her one night with them here. If she was, Elle didn't stay reflective for long; she snapped her fingers impatiently and took up guard position in the entrance way. "Get your stuff."

Gretchen hurried inside and started packing their bags. Not bothering with her usual system of organization, she just threw clothes into open duffels. The idea of a shower still sounded like a good idea, but Elle was tapping her foot and kept scanning the parking lot beyond the windows. Like Claire the night before she didn't stray far from the curtains. Without realizing it she was mirroring the other special.

Reaching into a side pocket of her bag, Gretchen found her phone. In a rush of elation she checked it only to find a blank screen. "Battery's dead."

"Leave it out. We'll charge it in the car."

Gretchen threw it back in the side pocket because she didn't think she remembered a car charger when she left the dorm. "Would you like a change of clothes?"

Elle looked up. "What?"

Gretchen pointed at Claire's bag. "Some of her stuff might fit you." Like a spaz she couldn't help but glance up and down Elle's body.

"I'm not wearing the cheerleader's clothes."

"She wouldn't mi—"

"She would and I'm not."

Gretchen removed a fresh outfit from her duffel and walked to the bathroom. Closing the door she quickly began stripping. Giving the shower a longing glance, she turned her back on it and began getting dressed. Her skin and hair felt sandy and uncomfortable. Using her index finger she swished some toothpaste around her mouth, rinsed, and considered her reflection in the mirror for a long moment. Wetting her hands she combed her fingers back through her hair.

Clad in clean jeans and an Arlington University sweatshirt, Gretchen stepped out of the bathroom and stuffed her dirty clothes into the duffel's unused pocket and zipped it up. Elle still stood by the door, and now had Claire's bag resting at her feet.

Gretchen tossed the keycard on the coffee table and sighed. "I'm ready."

…

…

"Your lucky day," Elle said. "You get to pick."

Gretchen grimaced. "Isn't there a better way? I feel funny about this."

Bags thrown over their shoulders, the two women walked through the parking lot. "We'll ditch it once we meet up with Noah," Elle said. "Police will find it and return it to the rightful owner. Victimless crime."

"Or they catch us before we get two miles and I go to prison."

"Nah, don't worry. They like tall girls in the pen, but I'll make you my little bitch and keep you safe." Elle stopped in front of a newer model Dodge sport coupe. Her reflection in the tinted windows smiled wickedly. "I like this one."

"That's a sweet offer, thank you." Gretchen glanced around and didn't see anyone. What if this was one of those trap cars like they used on Dateline to catch thieves?

Elle flexed her hands. "Stand back and don't touch the metal until I say to." Weak arcs of lightning crackled from her fingers and played over the coupe's frame. The black paint wilted a little where the bolts made contact and she let out a sympathetic groan. The horn sounded once, the lights flickered, and the alarm died with a pitiful whine. Power locks popped up with a snap.

The light show died and a burnt component smell started wafting from the car. Elle opened the door and cocked an eyebrow. "You take shotgun, little bitch. I'm driving."

Two quick shocks to a set of wires underneath the steering column later and the engine was revving. Five minutes after that Gretchen's bags sat on the narrow backseat and they were speeding up the road with both windows open.

Elle glanced in the rearview mirror and gave the sport engine a little more gas. While Gretchen wasn't crazy about riding in a speeding stolen car, she had to admit it felt good to be moving quickly again. After walking everywhere this morning it felt almost intoxicating to see street signs fly past in a blink.

"Give me your phone."

Gretchen's hair whipped around her face and stuck to the corners of her mouth. "I forgot my charger at home."

"Doesn't matter. Let me see it."

Unbuckling her seatbelt long enough to reach back and pull the phone from its side pocket, Gretchen complied. "I think we'll have to find a payphone or something."

Elle smiled and accepted the mobile. Keeping one hand on the wheel, she set the cell on her lap and popped the back cover off. Removing the battery she held it up and inspected it. Gretchen watched fascinated as the special pinched the battery's two connector pins between her thumb and forefinger. A faint blue glow danced just underneath her nails.

Elle seemed to silently count beats in her head and then pulled her fingers back. Power now gone from her skin, she put the battery back in and snapped the cover on. She tossed the phone over. "Try it now."

Gretchen could feel heat bleeding from the battery through the casing. She touched the on switch and the phone happily lit up and showed five voicemail alerts and a full charge. "That's incredible!"

Using the master control on the driver side door, Elle put the windows up and nodded at her. "Call your girlfriend and find out where Noah wants us all to meet."

Gretchen touched the callback button but didn't press it, clearing the screen instead. She stared at Elle. "Does it…hurt when you do that?"

"What? No." She gave a lopsided grin. "Line up a few dozen depleted car batteries and make me quick charge them and it might sting a little, but a thing like that, no. Greater chance it would just explode in my hand if I gave it too much juice."

Gretchen remembered Claire telling her that the Company had abused Elle's ability—and would have done the same to her power of regeneration. "Did the Company make you do that with batteries?"

"I don't remember," she said quickly. "Hey, do you want to navigate or not? Because I need a direction here."

Gretchen nodded and looked down at her phone. Desire to talk to Claire again welled up in her chest. She started to type in the number.

"My power doesn't hurt me as long as the circuit doesn't come back to me," Elle suddenly said, not looking away from the road. "It feels good most of the time, like that buzz you get after a great screw but cranked up several times.

"It is nice of you to ask, but really you can save it. I get enough pity from Pom Pom."

"Claire doesn't pity you." Gretchen hesitated. "Well maybe a little but not in a bad way. She cares about you."

Elle laughed. "Yeah."

"She helps you whenever you ask...She gave you a ride to the airport."

The special shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Like I said, Doe Eyes, that didn't mean anything. It was just another night on the beach."

_That's why you are trying so hard to be b__etter, because it doesn't mean anything_, Gretchen thought. _And why she still looks out for you_. Instead she said, "I know Claire pretty well and it means something to her."

Elle didn't say anything in reply and just increased the car's speed.

**TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

The meet up point was a small waffle house across the street from a cheap motel.

Elle swung their borrowed car through the parking lot and into a space next to Noah's sedan. She glanced in the rearview mirror looking for…something she didn't quite know what.

Most of their hour long trip had passed in silence. A headache still pressed against the back of her eyes making them feel like they were going to pop out at any moment and a dull ache had settled over her entire body. Her messed up night spent in the water and then crammed into that boat had caught up with her. And then there was the thing with Gretchen... In fact just dwelling on the entire evening was enough to make her want to write the whole thing off as just another one of her many nightmares.

Mostly she felt confused and…angry. If forced to admit it out loud, Elle didn't really know how to describe the emotion but anger was one she knew and had the most experience with so she went with that. The feeling prickled along her skin when she watched Gretchen text Claire every other minute of their road trip. It wasn't embarrassment—a childhood and adolescence spent in a cell under cameras at all hours rid her of that emotion—and she wasn't capable of feeling guilt so she didn't know what to call it.

Anger it was then.

She moved to pop the door but Gretchen stopped her with a hand on her arm. Big brown eyes deserving of her name blinked at Elle.

_She's worried I'm going to tell_, Elle thought. _I could cause trouble with Claire now_.

It made that tingling over her skin feel just a little worse when she realized she liked the idea of being able to do just that.

"Elle…"—_here it comes_—"…thank you." Gretchen leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. Lingering long enough for Elle to feel her lips curve upward in a small smile against her skin. _The hell_?

"Yeah, well, right back at ya. I don't do gratitude very well so could we just go inside?"

The smile inexplicably increased and she nodded. "I suppose I should buy you breakfast—I did get your pants off last night." With that she opened the passenger side door and was gone before Elle could fully process that.

She swore heatedly to the empty car before following. If her head didn't hurt and if things didn't feel so messed up she would have laughed at that. Or she probably would have said it first. It was pretty funny, if confusing.

Sparks danced over her hands as Elle ran her thumbs over her fingertips, counting them silently to herself before starting over. The dull ache faded slightly with that familiar repetitive action.

Her usual swagger was back in place even if she didn't feel fully sure of herself by the time she walked into the waffle house. The smell of frying sausage and overly sweet syrup reminded her that she hadn't eaten since her breakfast-lunch yesterday. Her stomach clenched painfully when she spotted Noah and Claire.

They had taken a booth in the rear of the diner with a clear view of the door and parking lot beyond. Claire was on her feet and racing toward them the instant she saw Gretchen. Elle was surprised to see Noah even looked relieved. The blonde and brunette met at the halfway point and became a tangle of limbs as they sloppily grappled at each other.

Elle sidestepped around them and didn't bother watching the Hallmark movie style reunion. She grabbed a chair from an unoccupied table as she passed and dragged it to Noah's booth. Not paying any attention to him standing to greet her, Elle swung the chair around and straddled it with her arms crossed over the back.

"That had better be caffeinated, Noah," she said reaching for Claire's coffee cup.

"Are you hurt?"

It was full strength, thankfully, and still hot enough that she didn't have to worry about cheerleader backwash. She touched the dried blood matting her hair. "Nah, I'm fine. Looks worse than it is really. A little lather, rinse, repeat and I'll be good as new all over again."

Noah had ordered, and half finished, some sort of omelette and hashbrowns while Claire had an untouched stack of pancakes. Elle began picking food off each plate.

The restaurant was mercifully empty save for just a few people spread out over several tables and two waitresses leaning against the front counter, looking bored. One started for Noah's booth when she caught sight of Elle, but he waved her off.

In the center of the room Claire and Gretchen had moved to an unoccupied table, close enough to whisper things to each other and kiss. Elle glared at them, feeling the back of her neck tingle. Her headache felt worse; the sooner this little adventure ended the better.

Noah was looking at her looking at his daughter. No wonder her head hurt. "What?" she demanded. "Food on my face?"

Noah shook his head. "Micah Sanders is in Trenton," he said. "He's expecting me later today."

"Walker?"

"She'll be there too."

Elle snorted and dipped a bite of toast in the syrup over the pancakes. "Figures. I ask her to do me a solid and get a big fat no; Uncle Noah asks and she can't help fast enough."

"I don't think she's doing it for me."

She dipped a forkful of omelette next. "Well, I _know_ it isn't for me. Walker and I haven't exactly bonded over shoe shopping and cute boys."

Behind them Claire laughed at something Gretchen had said and her laughter carried through the waffle house.

"So when do we leave?"

"I'm leaving right away," Noah said.

Elle paused, fork halfway to her mouth. "You gotta be kidding me."

"Micah already rented several rooms in the motel across the street." He pulled an old fashion key on a chain from his shirt pocket and slid it over to her. "Different identities for each one, none of which link back to us."

Elle eyed him carefully. There was something in his tone she didn't like. "So you think we'll be invisible to Kane?"

"No," he said flatly. "In fact I'm reasonably sure I'm talking to part of him right now. He's in your head isn't he, Elle? That was how he knew about Claire's power and where to find her. Kane knows everything you know."

Elle set the fork slowly down and leaned back. Something deep inside wanted to call her power right there and fight back but she suppressed that impulse. "How did you figure it out?"

"Micah did, actually. It seems he was covering Claire's trail from the second he told you where she really was. He put out false leads trying to buy you time to get her safe, and to hopefully trace Nicholas' location if he took the bait.

"But he never did. Those ghosts weren't even touched. He went right to your location."

Elle didn't look away from his unblinking gaze. "I'm not working for him, Noah. He's in my head sometimes, he talks to me, taunts me, but I'm going to kill him for it. I came here to help Claire and Doe Eyes and to warn you. All I originally was going to do was make sure they were safe, you were on the scene, and then I was going to disappear."

She pushed the plates away and stood. "In fact that's what I'm going to do now. Forget Trenton. Forget Micah. Take the wonder twins and keep them away from me. I'm going after Kane on my own."

"Elle, sit down." It was the voice of a father, not a Company agent, that stopped her and made it obey instantly. He sighed. "I know all that, too."

"You do?"

"I was thinking about the ambush on the dock, when the attack happened. What did you do?"

Baffled, she shrugged. "I took a shot at him."

"You fired over him, lighting him against the swirling sand, and gave me the shot. If I were half a second quicker it would have worked. We would have wounded him instead of you having to lay down a sheet of power and probably killing him."

"So you think because of that I'm working for him?"

"No. If that were the case you would have shot me and removed me from the equation. Nicholas would have had Claire then and there." He looked at Claire and then back to her, keeping his voice measured. "So I asked Micah something. Turns out since your return he couldn't find any signs you had killed anyone, not even Building 26 agents."

Elle shifted uncomfortably. "Been a dry year."

"You were a Company assassin and yet didn't take part in Rebel's counterattacks or underground railroad."

"I'm not a team player. Is there a point anywhere around here?"

"The point is I'm going to Trenton and you are going to stay here to keep an eye on the girls while I'm gone."

"Just like that? All is forgiven? Not afraid there's going to be another attack or that I'm going to go all Jack Torrance and Overlook on them?"

"Let's just say you have a couple of strong advocates in your corner." Noah stood and threw money on the table to cover the bill and tip. "There probably _is_ going to be another attack if we don't hurry—for all I know Nicholas is sitting at this table with us listening in. Which is why I'm telling Elle Bishop that I'm coming back with information we need to stop him. And that I'm trusting her to keep doing what she has been doing—and if there is another attack before I return I know she'll do what she's been trained to do.

"What her father would have wanted her to do in order to protect my daughter. No matter what sort of impairment against killing she might be feeling."

Noah left her then, letting the full weight of responsibility settle on her shoulders. Elle looked at the half eaten food; she wasn't hungry any longer.

…

…

John Holman woke up.

Nicholas was aware of the thoughts and memories of his shell's previous host stirring. It was an annoyance but not really troublesome. It was just a ghost of the self that used to exist. An echo, nothing more.

He ignored it and focused on the outside world around Holman. Programmed to operate without Nicholas' hand guiding him, Willie worked on the van while Holman looked on.

They were in a dingy place, an abandoned garage, a bolt hole useful only for hiding his shells while he regrouped. Neither of his puppets cared about the dirt. Nicholas meanwhile looked at it with disgust. He hadn't spent years locked in a tiny cell just to wallow in filth like common swine.

The idea of returning to his body briefly flickered through his thoughts, but Nicholas didn't want to sever his current connection either. Bishop and Bennet were close and once Willie's vehicle was ready he planned on leading another attack.

Holman's ability would not let him down again. He would burn the special to a crisp if he needed to while generating a storm big enough to get him what he wanted.

The power stirred deep in John's chest, eager for use. Specials were not meant to conceal and avoid their powers, Nicholas knew, as the Company had once thought. For a moment he savored the alien feel of another's ability within his control, letting a breeze fill the garage. An old coffee can filled with screwdrivers and sockets sitting in the corner toppled over with the touch of wind.

Holman pushed back against Nicholas' mind and the telepath regarded him with contempt. All of the frustration he felt at letting Bennet escape focused on the echo. Nicholas called his ability and set about wiping Holman completely clean. He started burning away everything, even basic brain functions. When Nicholas left again he would leave behind a completely dead shell.

Did Holman think he was the first to try and fight Nicholas' ability? That he could overpower a telepath? Using John's lips, Nicholas smiled.

The remnant in his mind didn't try avoiding his probing or lash out. Instead it reached past Nicholas and plunged for something deeper into the subconscious. All the way down to the tiny spark all specials possessed.

The breeze turned into a forceful gust and Willie gave a strangled cry and jumped back when the van's door slammed shut.

The body Nicholas occupied stumbled back into a set of shelves and fell to the floor. He wasn't aware of ordering the body to move. His ability rose to his defense, overwhelming Holman's mind and tearing through looking for the remnant. Memories that did not belong to him, hollow shades now, flashed by as he searched deep.

_Where_? Nicholas poured his power into Holman, choking the remnant.

Pain, a sudden flare of a feeling he hadn't known in years, exploded in his—_John's—_side. Shock and fear followed that foreign sensation. He felt wind, an element that had responded it his command just seconds before, battering against him and yanking the breath from his lungs.

Something hard and sharp smacked into his face and drew blood.

Using John's hand, he touched his side and felt warm stickiness around a protruding object. A nail. John's voice called through his shredded mind: _Freedom_.

Nicholas sensed more than heard the coffee can filled with tools slide across the floor. Holman's ability focused a cone of wind down into it and lifted everything inside into the air. They twirled around and around, spinning as blur, in a small tornado.

Nicholas had just a second to realize that he was not in control of what was happening around him, the other man's ability no longer belonged to him.

And then the tools were racing toward him. Ripping pain tore through his chest and face…and then Nicholas was trying to draw a desperate breath. He couldn't and began to panic. His thoughts spun end over end, like he was in a free fall, and no longer could he feel the shell of John Holman around him. He couldn't feel anything.

His eyes bugged with effort to breathe. The machines around him, unfazed by the events of a state away, slowly filled his lungs with air. The steady beeping assured him that his heart wasn't really beating rapidly and it was only his imagination.

Nicholas was back in his real body; Holman had somehow forced him out. With an inaudible snarl, he focused his ability and traveled. His tags, markers in the minds of those he had touched, flew past as he returned to New Jersey at the speed of thought.

The mark he'd left behind in John Holman was gone. Latching onto the nearest shell, Nicholas violently inhabited Willie. The familiar presence of his first victim settled around him. Sight returned and he saw the body of Holman slumped against the wall of the garage, the shell's face and throat ruined by the sharp tools scattered around the body.

The blowing wind was gone, as dead as the special that had commanded it.

For a long while Nicholas just stood looking down at him. Rage slowly building and working through his borrowed body. There was no spark of free will left inside Willie—if there had been his current anger would have burned it to cinder in an instant.

He had never been inside a puppet when it died before. Nicholas didn't like it one bit—it reminded him too much of the weakness of feeling his own life slipping away after Bishop shot him.

Nicholas Kane called his ability, letting it fill him and added his rage to it. Willie trembled with the sensation. He didn't need a special to get what he needed from Bennet. There were plenty of people open to his power and he was going to use them all.

He traveled…

…

…

A chainlink fence blocked off two large trash dumpsters behind the waffle house. Elle fed enough of a charge into the metal to electrify it. A faint buzz and the scent of ozone filled the air. Two bugs crawling between holes in the fence popped and fell charred to the ground.

A savage smile twisted Elle's face and she increased the power flow. Blue-white arcs jumped from her fingertips and she lazily dragged her hand back and forth to keep from melting the thin wire. Her eyes scanned the sky; she wished a bird would land on the fence.

Connected like she was to it gave her a sense of peace.

Her ability she understood and could control. Lately she felt pushed and led around by things she couldn't easily identify. But the lightning her father had worked so hard to help her master was still there and waiting for her call. She could still charge a cell phone or, the image sprang to her mind, tear through and destroy a building the size of a waffle house.

Elle wouldn't—she didn't think—but it was nice to know she was still able.

She sighed and felt tension flow down her arm and out through her fingers. A fried bird would be nice. Blackened feathers fluttering to the ground.

"Elle?"

In a blink she spun with a hand extended—

__

Put some English on it.

—and stopped just short of blasting Claire.

"Sorry." Elle took a step back and tightened her hands into fists so she wouldn't see them shake.

"It's okay," Claire said. "You've been running on high octane for several days now."

She shot her a grin. "Yeah, you could say that. And it isn't always as fun as you might think. So what are you doing out here, Pom Pom? Shouldn't you be inside sucking face with your girlfriend and giving locals and truck drivers the show of their lives?"

Color filled her face but she smiled regardless. "We all have rooms across the street; she took some food back to ours."

"Oh."

"I wanted to talk to you privately before joining her."

_She knows what I tried to do, _Elle thought_. What I still want to do, and she regrets bringing me back_. It wasn't any easier when it was just her own voice inside her head because she quickly followed that with, _But Doe Eyes probably couldn't lie if her life depended on it. Healing me means something to Claire._

She tried to back away. "Actually I need to get going. I have a stolen car to ditch."

"You did good work out there, Elle. I'm proud of you."

Elle stopped walking long enough to give her a hard stare, trying to figure out her angle. "Thanks, Cheerleader, but I'm working with a fair amount of self-preservation here. I didn't need yet another Bennet on my case."

"I'm not just talking about Gretchen. I know about Baltimore. I know you've been trying to help Company abductees."

"More like running after shouting that I'm not going to kill them." She gave a real laugh at that; it was funny. "'Sides many of them don't need any help. Turns out the Company didn't destroy every single person it touched after all."

Claire leaned against the rear wall of the waffle house. For a long while she just stared up at the blue sky. There was something oddly comforting about Claire Bennet at rest so Elle came to a stop next to her and copied the pose. She once went years without seeing the sky in person; clouds still seemed unreal to her at times.

"Have you thought about a partner?" Claire asked suddenly. "There are plenty of former agents scattered around—this vendetta excluded—that would want to do some good."

"Noah once told me some unpleasant things about my father," Elle answered after a moment. "He pointed out that one of us and one of them never applied to me. Daddy believes I either do it on my own or I don't do it at all."

If Claire caught the verb tense slip she didn't correct her. "You did pretty well with Gretchen."

"Yeah. That's what I'll do next. I'll recruit Berg. You'd love me for that, I'm sure."

Claire chuckled along with her. "You're not deputizing my girlfriend, no. And that's not exactly what I meant."

"I know. Some of us just work better alone though."

Claire turned to face her, one arm braced against the wall. "Doesn't have to be that way."

"The Pinball Wizard keeps trying to get me to be more involved with his little projects, but it isn't for me. Not really. I'll help if he needs it, but…you know...we're not going to sit around talking about our feelings or anything."

"Yeah."

Claire suddenly seemed very close to her and Elle felt claustrophobic. Escaping the alley sounded like a very good idea. "Listen, I—"

"I'm glad you're okay," Claire said.

_Huh_?

"Huh?"

Claire reached out and touched Elle's temple and brushed hair caked with dried blood out of the way. "That looks nasty. Gretchen told me she was up with you all night. I'm glad you're going to be okay."

That strange feeling was prickling her skin again. Claire was standing close, touching her hair, and Elle was fighting her primal instincts to prevent a repeat of the night before with a different girl. _How messed up am I?_ She took the cheerleader's wrist and lowered her hand. "Thanks. That, ah, girl of yours has a good head on her shoulders. I would have drown if she hadn't dragged me out of the water."

Claire nodded and inched back. "Yes, she does."

She was still holding Claire's small but not fragile wrist. She had a sudden mental flash of kissing Claire and pressing her hard against the wall. _Jesus H, I need to let her go before I make a bigger fool of myself_!

"One more day," Elle said ignoring it, "and you two will be back on the road. I'm sure the biggest ball of twine waits for no woman."

She gave a polite smile. "What about you? Where are you off to once this is over?"

Elle dropped her hand and stepped away. "Why? Afraid I'll track you down again?"

Annoyance flashed in Claire's eyes but Elle figured she still had goodwill built up from Doe Eyes because the cheerleader didn't press it. "Actually I'm extending an offer that if you find yourself in New York when this is over you are welcome to look us up."

"Angela would love that."

Claire shrugged. "It's a big city. We could just do something between the three of us. No one would have to know."

_Peter Paul and Mary, wouldn't that be cozy?_ Elle counted her fingers and let sparks crackle over them. "Listen, I promised Doe Eyes I would lose the car we stole so she wouldn't go to prison so I really need to get going. Tell Noah I'll be ready when he gets back." She started down the alley, paused, and glanced over her shoulder. "I'll hang around the motel until then but after this thing I'm not coming back with him. And I doubt I'll be anywhere near New York City. If I don't see you again before I leave take care of yourself, Cheerleader."

"Oh. Okay. You too, Elle."

She left Claire standing there and hurried from the alley, fighting the urge to look back with every step.

**TBC**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

…Nicholas was Riley Lewis, a middle school teacher on his way to buy coffee.

Nicholas was Stewart Thompson, a plumber that was about to miss his last appointment for the day.

Nicholas was Allicia Mcleary, a mother of three out for a late afternoon jog. She stopped in the middle of the road, face blank, waiting for the van she knew was coming to pick her up.

Nicholas was Dave Brookberg, an army vet living on the streets.

Nicholas was…

…

…

Gretchen heard Claire come into their room over the spray of the shower. Ever since she told her about a phobia born from seeing Psycho as a kid, Claire made sure to cause a lot of noise when interrupting shower time.

She smiled into the flowing water and called, "Come in!"

Claire, already free of unneeded clothing, padded across the bathroom floor and peeked around the curtain. "Hey."

"Hey." Gretchen scooted back in the narrow tub. "Get in here; you're letting cold air in."

The special didn't need a second invitation and climbed immediately in, closing the curtain behind her. Gretchen made a happy noise deep in her throat as Claire's arms tightened around her waist. She bent down to even their height difference and kissed her.

Claire was soft and yielding to her, parting her lips slightly. Away from the spray of hot water, Gretchen felt suddenly cold and shivered. Responding to that, Claire turned them and angled her head slightly, letting the water crest over and run between them.

Gretchen had missed this. All the worry she had carried for the past twenty four hours ran off with the water and swirled at their feet. Claire sucked her bottom lip before pulling back to catch her breath. They kept their heads together and eyes closed.

Claire pressed her back against the wet tiles; the weight and feel of her girlfriend against her was comforting and reassuring.

"I don't think I'm ever going to take hot water for granted again."

Claire nuzzled against her collarbone and they stood like that for several minutes, letting the steam and mist whirl around them. "Me neither."

"You didn't go for a cold swim."

"I didn't really mean the water."

Gretchen thought hard about what she was about to say. "We need to talk about something," she said at last. If she was going to do this, now was the time. Tomorrow could be too late.

"Talking isn't exactly what I had in mind."

"I know." She drew her hand up Claire's back, feeling vertebrae underneath her fingers. "And I want to, but there's something first."

Claire glanced around and humorously said, "You picked the strangest place for a breakup speech."

"Not a breakup speech! Kind of the opposite, really."

Hands firm on Gretchen's hips, Claire pulled back and regarded her. "I know. I'm not worried."

Gretchen smiled at that and blinked water from her lashes. "I know you're in love with Elle and I'm fine with it."

Whatever Claire was expecting, Gretchen guessed that wasn't it. She opened her mouth, held the pose, and then closed her jaw without making a sound.

Gretchen pressed onward. "She feels the same, well, actually, I don't think she knows how she feels, but I can tell. And it's okay because you guys have history and you're both specials…and I kind of like her too."

Claire finally found her voice. "I love _you_. I'm not going anywhere."

"I know that." Claire's entire body was suddenly tense against her. Gretchen tightened her hold to keep the special from bolting. "But I'm worried she's slipping away and if we don't do something we're going to lose her forever."

Claire started to protest but Gretchen cut her off. "It's true and you know it. She's floundering and we need to do something about that. We need her to know that she has a place with us if she wants it."

For a long moment the only sound was the steady stream of water hitting the floor of the tub. The tension slowly drained away and Claire sighed. "This is crazy."

"No, it's not."

"It isn't supposed to work like that."

"Says who?"

"You…like her?" she said slowly.

Gretchen nodded.

"But she's not easy to like."

Gretchen let out a laugh that echoed in their small bathroom. "Well, maybe a little abrasive if you don't know her. Believe me, I know better than most the pitfalls we're looking at here," she said, sobering. "I've seen Sandstone. But I think it could be okay if the three of us work at it."

"We need…rules or something, right? I mean how would it work? You guys draw numbers for every other Tuesday through Thursday?"

Gretchen pushed hair away from Claire's face. "We could do that, or figure out something less mathematical. Number one rule though is honesty. There are no secrets between the three of us. Secrets are what break up things like this. We have to all be in agreement on that or it doesn't happen."

Claire nodded. "How are you calm about this? It's like you have experience with this sort of thing or something."

Gretchen shrugged against the slick tiles. "Well, what happened that summer can be a story for another shower."

A look of realization spread over Claire's face and Gretchen leaned down to kiss her again, taking unconcealed joy at wiping that expression away and replacing it with a different one.

…

…

The GPS in Noah's car guided him through Trenton. He hadn't programmed a destination but midway up the Parkway it had activated itself and began giving him instructions where to find Micah.

_Technopaths_, he thought.

The helpful navigating voice led him around road construction and early evening traffic jams. It wouldn't show him the final destination and several times he was tempted to ask like it was a living thing. He'd never met another technopath with Micah's level of control and couldn't tell if he was showing off or if the special had interlaced himself with technology so much that this was merely second nature now.

Noah wasn't sure the extent of what the special learned during his campaign against Building 26 years ago.

He traveled along State Street, past the areas of commerce and management for the capital. After a time the GPS told him to stop along an innocuous looking three story brownstone. "You have arrived at your destination, Agent Bennet," the GPS happily said. "Please enjoy your stay."

Noah glanced over at its use of his name. That was not a standard feature.

He pulled along side the curb and parked. There were no identifying signs or features of the small office building. Shades covered all the windows, even the large one facing the street. He couldn't see them but knew there were cameras hidden around the area.

The front door opened as he started up the walk and confirmed all his suspicions. Molly Walker stood in the open doorway, older and taller since the last time he'd seen her. She wore an oversized sweater that she hugged around herself against the evening chill.

Her hair was pinned back and face freshly scrubbed and makeup free. A pang went through him and he thought of Claire from just a few years ago.

"Please come in."

He was expecting a standard office inside the brownstone, official and plain, but wood paneling, high ceilings, and soft recessed lighting caught him by surprise. A wall between the reception area and one of the larger offices was missing, creating a wide living space. Chairs and a sofa sat in a semi circle in the center of the great room. Three TVs hung on the wall and showed different news reports from around the world, all muted with closed captioning running along the bottom of their screens.

Noah stared for a moment.

"Would you like something to drink?" Molly asked. "We have tap water and…well that's it."

"I'm fine, thank you." He gestured to the room, walking deeper inside. "This is…"

"Home," Micah provided, appearing from one of the dark offices. Under his arm he carried a computer tablet. "Or at least a getaway for those that need one."

The young technopath walked up to them, briefly touched the small of Molly's back affectionately, and then held out a hand. "Welcome, Agent Bennet."

"Call me Noah." They shook hands and Micah led him to the sofa.

"I'm going to get ready," Molly said. "If you'd excuse me?"

"Of course." He was left alone with the technopath and recognized it as a setup. When she was gone, having ducked down a hall, Noah helped himself to a seat. "So this is new."

Micah shrugged and sat across from him. "I needed an out of the way space where I could put people up temporally if I had to. To the outside world, this is a branch of an investment firm out of Southeast Asia—explains the late night hours—but in actuality I have room to comfortably house over two dozen people."

"As Rebel?"

He shook his head, curls swaying. "Nothing so organized. Specials and nons come and go as they need to."

"I didn't realize your rebellion against Building 26 paid so well."

Micah stared at him with a serious expression. "This office space used to belong to Arthur Petrelli; I convinced some of his personal banks accounts to switch sides."

"You're reviving Pinehearst?"

"No, no. There are no names, hierarchy, or plans for government take over."

Noah leaned forward. "The Company started the same way. Things have a tendency to spiral."

"The Company's focus was specials, learning about powers, and keeping the world from knowing about them—I have a different view. We're all in this together, Mr. Bennet. Specials and nons have to figure out how to work together or neither of us are going to last. Something is coming, I know you feel it too, and it is going to try and divide all of us."

"This isn't my first recruitment speech, Micah. Promises of togetherness and cooperation won't work on me—it always ends up the same way between specials and nons."

Micah didn't look surprised and shrugged again. "I wasn't exactly offering a job. I know what the government has you doing these days. I was thinking more of a sharing of information between allies."

"Such as?"

"Not every special is happy with the way of the world now; not every non thinks specials are here to destroy the world. Of those fewer still have the drive or ability to make others think the way they do. It's those few I'd like to know more about."

Noah smiled in spite of himself. "For someone who isn't trying to restart the Company, you sound an awful lot like a couple of its original founders."

Micah set his computer tablet down. He looked older than Noah remembered, changed by his time as Rebel and Claire's revelation to the world. "I can promise you that is exactly what I'm not. Partner with me and you'll find that out."

Every TV started showing video of a protest between two religious groups outside congressional hearings about specials.

Noah looked at each screen, thinking. "What exactly did you want to know?" he asked.

Micah smiled. "What can you tell me about the Church of the Nephilim?"

…

…

Elle figured that the best thing for a head injury was alcohol and plenty of it. The bar was close enough to the motel but still a far enough walk away from where she left the stolen car to not have to worry about prison and keeping that bitch promise to Gretchen.

She smiled as a stray dirty thought entered her mind.

Plus it gave her something to do while waiting for Noah. Sitting in the motel room while Claire and Gretchen played prisoner and guard just a few doors down didn't sound like fun to her.

Elle lined five peanuts up in a line on the bar, squinted at them for a moment, and then proceeded to zap them with a small jolt from each finger. They exploded into bits and left behind a burnt oily smell. She smiled at the result of her little game.

Down the bar's length from her, the bartender glanced her way and at the light show and immediately turned his back. Save for a couple of quiet drunks the place was empty. She doubted the bartender wanted anything to do with a special in his establishment.

She was about to call for him to actually do his job and pour her another when the door opened and Claire and Gretchen walked in from the night.

Elle turned slightly on the barstool, away from them, and cursed under her breath. "Way to lay low, girls," she mumbled.

Both were freshly showered, hair still wet, and clad in clean clothes. They stood in the entranceway for a moment, arms wrapped around each other, presenting an air of happiness and confidence.

Elle watched them out of the corner of her vision. _One of us one of them_, sprang to her mind for some reason.

They started for the bar, walking directly to where Elle sat. She sighed. Did Claire-bear not get the message earlier?

Gretchen ponied up to the bar on one side, Claire the other, and Elle felt them both press against her legs. Heat rolled off them and she felt a wave of confinement roll through her.

"Didn't think you two would come up for air so soon," Elle said. "Is the magic gone?"

Claire smiled and shared a glance with Gretchen. "We were missing something in the room and decided to head out to pick it up."

"Batteries?"

Instead of the joke making Claire back off like she planned, the cheerleader shrugged. "Something like that."

Gretchen caught the bartender's attention and waved him over. She showed her driver's license and ordered a round of drinks.

The bartender gave her a look. "I don't want any special trouble in here," he said. "One is one thing, but three is pushing it. I don't want you freaks fighting and tearing this place apart. Maybe you should take your drinks and go."

Elle opened her mouth to protest, Claire next in line, but Gretchen beat them to the punch. "Oh you won't have to worry about us staying long," she said. "Or spending much money. But you should really get your specdar checked because there are two specials standing in front of you and I'm not one of them."

He looked over and Elle let power crackle around one hand for emphasis. "Care to guess which one of us is the nice one?"

The bartender paled and turned away to get their drinks.

Gretchen shot Claire a wink and pushed from the bar. She walked to an old jukebox in the corner, drawing a couple of mistrustful stares along the way.

"She is quite the girl," Claire said.

"Yeah," Elle agreed. She thought for a moment. "I made a move on her, you know. But she was thinking about you and wouldn't cheat. Not in the slightest. She loves you."

"I know...all of it...but thank you for telling me." The two specials shared a long glance—Elle looked away first.

Music filled the bar, old and sad and slow. Gretchen walked from the jukebox to the center of the room, holding both hands out.

Claire took a draught of her drink. "I do believe I've been asked to dance," she said.

Elle smiled in spite of herself, oddly happy for her former antagonist. "Have fun, Cheerleader." She was making plans to return to the hotel early. Maybe with earplugs.

"Oh, I intend to." Claire slipped an arm around Elle's waist and turned her around on the stool. "Let's go."

"Wait—what?"

Claire pulled Elle to her feet and led her to Gretchen. The taller woman took her hand and began dancing, forcing her body to follow. Elle looked between the two, extremely confused. _I've finally snapped_, she thought. _I always thought it would be different than this_. Well, not really. Better music maybe.

Claire moved along side them, in time but separate save for a hand on Gretchen's waist. "Who would have thought you'd be so uptight?" she said.

"Who would have thought you wouldn't be?" Elle countered. "What the hell was in that drink?"

"Nothing."

Gretchen tightened her hold on Elle and led their dance. "We're being honest," she said, amused.

The cheerleader moved in close. "Are we out of line?"

Elle thought about it and eventually said, "I'm not sure."

Claire kissed her. It was hesitant and exploratory at first, nothing like the demanding frenzy Elle had fantasized about but it sent a charge through her just the same. She was mindful not to let too much of the power channel into Gretchen.

Elle pulled back, turned her head, and found Gretchen waiting next. The brunette ducked her head and caught Elle's mouth with hers. She was braver than Claire and let her tongue sweep along the special's bottom lip. Elle opened her mouth and deepened the kiss.

Hands rubbed along her back, slipping lower to rest just above her ass. Her head swimming, Elle had no idea if that was Claire or Gretchen touching her.

Claire was suddenly there and nipped at the corner of Gretchen's mouth. Elle turned slightly, bumped noses with them twice while trying to coordinate it properly, laughed, and kissed them both. It was sloppy and messy and scandalous enough for the health department to probably shut this small town bar down.

Elle loved every second of it.

Gretchen hadn't lied to the bartender—the three of them didn't stay very long after that.

…

…

The atlas was old, its bindings frayed, and opened to a map of the tri-state area.

Micah had setup a small work area in one of the unused offices in the brownstone. There were maps of various cities from around the world, cups overflowing with tacks, and satellite photos down to the street level. There were cardboard file boxes stacked three high in the corner, filled no doubt with dossiers of those Rebel had decided to keep close watch on.

Noah also noticed a fine layer of dust over everything. He didn't know what caused Molly to turn away from her power, but could guess. Both the Company, Claude, and Rebel had used Molly in the conflict between nons and specials. It had been a long time since her ability belonged to her alone.

She sat cross-legged in the center of the room, the atlas before her, rolling a tack between her thumb and forefinger.

Micah dropped to his haunches next to her. "Ready?"

Noah stayed back in the doorway, letting the two specials have as much privacy as possible.

She took a deep breath, released it, and drew another. Eyes closed, her head rolled until her chin touched her chest.

Noah had seen her use her ability before, knew it was usually quick and without flash. Seconds stretched and Molly didn't move. He traded a glance with Micah and the technopath could only shrug.

Her hand started moving, the tack's point sliding along the map, and both Noah and Micah breathed a sigh of relief.

Molly's eyelids began to flutter, slow at first, and then with increased ferocity. Her hand twitched and jumped between counties on the map. She stabbed the tack down, cutting through several pages at once.

"Mol—?"

Still lost in her ability, she jerked away from Micah and lunged for one of the cups filled with tacks. It toppled over sending them spilling across the floor. Scooping up a handful, Molly returned to the atlas and began jabbing them into the map.

Micah looked up. "Help her!"

Noah rushed forward and dropped to his knees. "Molly! Snap out of it."

She didn't seem to hear and kept working on the atlas.

Micah reached to stop her, but she savagely pushed him away with both hands. He stumbled back and landed among spilled tacks.

Noah grabbed her arms from behind and pinned them to her body. He stood and dragged her up, not letting her get enough leverage to break free.

Micah climbed to his feet and began calling her name. He took her face in his hands and made her look at him.

Eventually the spell broke and she stopped fighting. Noah let her go. "What happened? Did he see you?"

"I don't know. I don't think so." She sounded dazed, not yet fully back in just one place.

Micah hugged her. "It's okay—you're okay. You are okay."

Noah turned his back on them and looked down at the atlas.

"It was like there was more than just one of him," Molly finally said.

There were at least a dozen tacks sticking out of the map, all centered on the town where he had left Claire.

"Kane is everywhere."

**TBC**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

It was still dark outside when Elle woke up. For a long while she lay in the dim quiet and listened as her companions slept. She liked being the first one awake. Warm breath brushed her chin as Claire breathed evenly in and out. Gently, Elle traced a finger along the side of Claire's face. On the cheerleader's other side was Gretchen. The taller of their trio snuggled against Claire's back and kept an arm protectively over Claire and a hand on Elle's hip.

Elle didn't know what to make of all this—it was still processing in her mind. What she did know was that for the first time in a long while, she hadn't woken from a nightmare. Her sleep had been thankfully dreamless.

Careful not to disturb the two women, Elle slipped from the bed and reached for her pants. Padding barefoot to the door, she grabbed a shirt from the floor and slipped it on. Judging by the fit, it wasn't the top she started the evening in but she didn't bother to find the correct one.

Outside the air was cool and damp and there was a fresh coat of dew over the walkway. Claire and Gretchen's room was on the second floor; Elle leaned against the railing and looked down at the scenic view of the lodge's parking lot. She took several deep breaths and felt a strange sort of peace settle over her.

She was going to kill Nicholas Kane today.

That wasn't why she was relaxed though. There were other reasons…

Elle looked up and thought about what it would mean when this was over. Where she would go. Above her the stars were starting to fade with the slow brightening of the coming day. Maybe Noah would even help her kill Kane once he knew Claire was safe. Maybe.

Ducking back into the room, she tiptoed to the dresser where Claire had left her phone. It shouldn't have taken Walker long to track the telepath down and Noah was probably on his way back. Elle wasn't sure if he knew that her phone was currently floating around the Delaware Bay.

Elle checked Claire's phone and found it dark; Doe Eyes' was the same. She crept outside again and turned it on. The idea of uninterrupted time together was sweet but first rule in Company training was never be intentionally unreachable. Ridiculously loud greeting music played and finally showed eight new voicemail messages and several texts from an unknown number.

"You know it is considered rude to jump out on a bedmate even when there is a third person in the room," Gretchen said behind her.

Elle looked back at the younger woman standing in the doorway, sheet wrapped around her frame. She blinked blearily and her hair stood out in wild ends. Lit by the almost morning glow, Elle thought she looked beautiful.

"I just needed some fresh air," she said. "Though hanging around isn't normally my thing."

Gretchen leaned against the doorjamb. "It could be."

"You are just eager to start a whole series of letters to Penthouse, aren't you?"

She smiled a little. "You and Claire would be surprised—I've got a couple backlogged. Skip out and you'll never hear the stories."

Elle looked to the parking lot when a van pulled in and swung into a free space underneath their walk up.

"I mean it," Gretchen continued. "We were thinking of getting something off campus next semester. It wouldn't be much but you'd be free to come and go as you wanted."

Elle glanced back, she fought the urge to say something completely different than, "You trying to domesticate me, Berg?"

Those big eyes flashed with humor. "I wouldn't dream of it, Bishop. But you should have a home base a little better than a car."

"Hey, I have a twenty five dollar a week motel room," Elle said lightly. "I'll think about it, but I don't make promises this early in the day."

Gretchen accepted that and nodded. "No pressure. The offer is there for you."

From the first floor came the sound of shoes climbing stairs.

Elle half expected Kane to say something in her head about Gretchen's offer —it was almost second nature now to hear from him—but only silence answered. She frowned at that.

"What?"

"I haven't heard from Kane in…a long time. Almost since we got here."

"That's great! You see I knew if you could just—"

Elle shushed her. Something wasn't right. She looked down at Claire's phone and clicked on one of the text messages.

"Kane can't be tracked. Men coming for Claire's blood. Noah en route. Run!"

"Go wake Claire," she ordered. "Get dressed."

"What is it? That special from before?"

Elle peered over the railing again and saw the van's sliding door standing open and the vehicle deserted. "Get inside. Right now!"

The former agent saw the first attacker before Gretchen did. Clearing the second level landing at a full run, he was a big man dressed in coveralls. In his hand was a wrench raised high like a weapon. He moved fast and by the time Gretchen saw him, he was halfway across the walk. Behind him were several more attackers rushing up the stairs.

Lightning left Elle's fingers without conscious thought on her part. He took the full force of the blast in the chest and it lifted him up and over the railing and sent him falling to the ground below. She got off another shot at a second man, but there were more still climbing the stairs.

Elle shoved Gretchen roughly inside and slammed the door. "Wake up, Cheerleader, we got ourselves a siege!"

Gretchen started grabbing clothes from the floor, pulling some on and throwing the rest on the bed for Claire. Elle bolted the door and began looking around for a barricade. "Somebody help me with the dresser," she called.

She lifted one end of the bureau and dragged it toward the door. From the opposite side she could hear the men trying to break in. A set of hands took the other end of the dresser and helped set it against the door.

A naked and confused Claire stood across from her. "What the fuck is going on?"

Even with the circumstances as they were, Elle had to smile at her corrupting influence on the younger special. "Kane is back and he decided to bring an army. Worst afterglow _ever_, huh?"

Gretchen handed Claire clothes. "We have to get out of here somehow."

The pounding on the door continued. "They are going to get in here," Claire said.

"Yeah and unless one of you learned how to teleport we're not getting out."

"What are we going to do?" Gretchen looked back and forth between the two specials.

Elle bit her lip and paced the small area. "I'm thinking."

"Well, think harder."

Claire turned to her. "Send me out. If they have my blood they'll leave you alone."

"_No_!" Elle and Gretchen said in near perfect unison. They exchanged glances and Elle said, "No, you are not. That's exactly what he wants and what I can't let happen."

The pounding on the door increased and the door jam started to splinter.

"They can't kill me."

Power crackled over Elle's hands and she reached deep, drawing more than she'd held at one time since returning from the dead. Her entire body shook with it. "Maybe, but I can kill them. Gretchen, get her in the bathroom and both of you stay down."

"I'll be safe out here," Claire insisted. "I'm staying with you."

Elle glanced at Gretchen before returning to Claire. "Then go and keep _her_ safe."

Realization and finally acceptance settled in her eyes. "Don't do anything crazy." Before Gretchen could raise protest, Claire grabbed her arms and rushed with her into the small bathroom.

Now alone, Elle squared her stance. Lightning jumped from her body randomly, tore small gouges in the walls and burned the carpet beneath her feet. Her lip curled as she pulled even more power onward.

Her nostrils flared and her breathing came in quick huffs. Elle felt like she was standing in the center of a swirling storm. It hurt and felt rapturous at the same time. She ground her teeth together; her skin felt like it would split open from the force of power boiling underneath it.

She held it all back though and watched as the attackers slowly broke through the door. Bloody fists holding bricks and stones punched through the wood, seemingly not caring about the damage they were doing to themselves.

They were victims, too, puppets of Nicholas Kane but the mad Company agent inside Elle didn't care. They were coming to take Claire's blood and were a threat to both her and Gretchen. Because of that she was going to kill each and every one of them. Elle stepped forward when they pushed the dresser out of the way. And she was going to enjoy every second of it. She knew this and didn't shy away from it.

The first attacker made it three paces into the room before she unleashed her power.

The force of it hit him dead center and blew his chest apart in an explosion of red mist and fried gore. Almost completely disconnected from the ruined mess above his waist his legs staggered forward one more step before toppling over.

Men and women were rushing into the hotel room, undeterred by the fate of their late companion. Electricity flowed over her skin like warm silk. Lightning left her fingertips and cut through the air with a sharp crack. One bolt impacted an attacker in the shoulder, spun him around, and two more stabbed through his back. They sliced him in two.

It was wild and chaotic and Elle stood in the center of it all. She was dimly aware of hearing her voice yelling with the emotion of it. Plaster rained down from the ceiling; her power punched through the walls and into the rooms on either side. Insulation smoldered and filled the air with greasy smoke. All around her, power arced and people screamed and died. The smell of burning meat was nauseating. Those that weren't lucky enough to get cut down quickly lay in quivering heaps on the floor, their skin raw and blistered.

The dark presence inside their minds drove them onward despite the pain and they clawed at the scorched carpet, trying to pull themselves to the bathroom where Claire waited.

One attacker managed to break through Elle's line of destruction and rushed her, a brick held above his head ready to crush her skull. She raised her hands instinctively and drove two bolts of power into his face at close range. His head and arm above the elbow vanished and blood and bone fragments flew in every direction. Momentum carried his corpse into her and she went down in a tangle of limbs.

Elle's ability kept arcing in the room and she felt the current flowing through the body on top of her return through their touching skin. Her own power twisted through her chest and white hot pain threatened to swallow her whole.

Elle grappled with her ability, trying to pull back what she had just given free rein to, and struggled with the dead weight pressing her down. The remaining attackers stomped past her, singled minded in their mission to get to Claire.

She yelled savagely and yanked her arm free when they broke down the bathroom door. The power answered her desperate call to defend Claire and Gretchen but she held back at the last second when she caught a glimpse of the dark haired woman huddled in the corner. Elle couldn't risk harming Gretchen too.

Pain jabbed in her side when Elle rolled as best she could with the body on top of her. She dug her bare toes into what was left of the carpet and started pushing herself free.

From inside the bathroom were shouts and banging. She heard Claire surrendering, saying not to hurt anyone else.

_No_!

There were two men left and they rushed out of the bathroom just seconds after Claire relented. Elle extended a hand and her ability. The bolt hit the man closest to the door and slammed him into what was left of the wall.

Now free, Elle climbed to her feet and let a second blast join the first. Enraged, she kept the intensity low at first and savored the sight of his clothes and then flesh burning off. Pinned to the wall he screamed and writhed under her touch.

Distantly she heard someone calling her name. Sense broke through when she realized it was Gretchen. Elle snapped a sudden surge of power into the suffering man and turned toward the bathroom. He crumpled like a marionette with its strings cut and she stepped over his body without really seeing him.

Compared to the rest of the motel room, the bathroom was relatively undamaged. The door hung by a single hinge and the jam was in splitters but inside was deceptively untouched. Claire leaned heavily against the sink, one hand against her forehead, while Gretchen fretted behind her. The taller of the two kept trying to examine Claire's neck.

"I'm fine," she said before Elle could begin.

"They got a syringe of blood," Gretchen supplied.

Elle turned and hurried through the ruined room. Outside, from the balcony, she saw the van starting to pull out of the parking lot, side door still open. She sent a blast of ball lightning after the van. It missed the rear tire but caught the fender and bumper. Sparks exploded where it made contact and the van swerved wide before correcting and racing from the lot.

"Shit," Elle cursed.

There were bodies everywhere, she realized. Easily a dozen men and some women, several dismembered, all horribly burned and scattered over the front of the hotel room and doorway. A weird feeling settled like a heavy stone in the pit of her stomach as Elle stared at them.

_You see_, Nicholas whispered, _in the end I win and you are still the same. Second chance? You were and are nothing more than a filthy murderer_.

"Shut up," she whispered. "Just shut up."

He did.

Claire appeared next to her and thrust a pair of shoes into her hands. "We have to go," she said.

Elle looked away from the burnt remains and saw the steel eyed gaze of a Bennet. Claire had Gretchen by one hand and took Elle's arm with her other. Over the non special's shoulder were their bags and in them anything identifying the room as theirs.

"Police are coming," she said slowly, making sure the words got through. "We need to get out of here and then call my dad."

Elle nodded and numbly fell in step with Gretchen. The presence of both her and Claire helped clear muddled thoughts. Company training was trying to kick in and offer ideas to get away and stop Kane. He had Claire's blood, there was no way to get it back without a car, so that meant he would soon be back to full strength.

Gretchen was safe, he didn't have a use for Claire any longer, but he would come after Elle first and then Noah for simply being a former agent. She wasn't going to let him harm Claire's father. Elle was still going to kill him; she would find a way.

Claire led them quickly but without appearing to rush across the street. They left the dark waffle house behind just as sirens started to sound in the distance. It was still early and only a few cars drove by and no one seemed to take notice of the three women.

Gretchen leaned in close. "You okay?"

Elle nodded. "Yeah. Wishing I hadn't ditched the car though."

That got a humorless smile in return. "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know yet. Talk to Noah first." She was thinking about Claire's blood and how her healing ability worked and what it would do to Kane. "Then I go from there."

"_We_," Claire corrected without looking back. "I told you, Elle, you aren't alone in this."

Gretchen was silent for a long moment. Finally she said, "That was very impressive back there. I'm sorry you had to do it, but thank you for trying."

"No problem, Doe Eyes. I'm a Company agent—it is what we do."

When Bob stole Claire's blood he had explained to Elle how it worked to restore those injured. When she partnered with Suresh he and her father rambled about the power of regeneration and how it might provide an answer to the Shanti Virus. There was a time frame, they had said.

There was a joke Bob told her, about Claire being in two places at once, when he put a bag of her blood in a cooler. She was safe from freezer burn at least.

Elle stopped walking and her eyes widened as an idea began to form. She thought hard about how the ability of telepathy worked. The Company believed that all abilities could be turned back on their owners, one way or another. Agents had to outthink their targets. Daddy taught her that.

"Fuck, I'm so stupid," she said. "It goes both damn ways. I've been talking to him without ever realizing I could use that."

Claire and Gretchen looked at each other. "What? What happened?"

"I know how to stop him." Elle swallowed hard at the thought of what she was about to agree to. "Chestnut, you need to call Noah but not around me. Cheerleader, find a place I can use. Somewhere quiet where I can be alone for a long time."

**TBC**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Deep breath in, hold, release.

Elle repeated the yoga mantra crap several more times to try and get her heart rate under control. It wasn't working.

Gretchen knelt and peered in the small space. "How are you doing?"

"Well." Elle considered the situation for a moment. "Like I'm sitting in a clubhouse about to open my mind to an insane telepath. Otherwise, good."

She was sitting inside a wood playhouse in the middle of the kid's area of a local park. Save for the light coming in from the open door the space was dark and cramped. There was a little hatch above her head leading to a second level of the house but Gretchen had already closed that. With the door shut, she'd be entirely in the dark.

"I'm sorry," Claire spoke up from behind Gretchen. "This was the best I could do on short notice. You said you needed to be inside somewhere, away from light, and by yourself. Our hotel room would have worked but it was blown up, remember?"

Someone had scribbled 'Johnny has a stupid head' in blue ink above the door. Given what she was about to do, Elle thought it was the funniest thing in the world. "They had sucky service anyway," she said. _Levity was good_, she thought. _It distracted from the gut wrenching terror._

"You don't have to do this," Gretchen said, maybe seeing the doubt in her eyes. "We'll find another way."

Elle shook her head. "Mental health has never been a strong point with me, but I have to do this. I started it with him and I'll finish it. Was Noah clear on his part?"

"Yeah," Claire said pointedly. "He's about an hour away and Micah is doing what he can to speed him along."

A whole hour. Perfect. "Great," she said instead. "I can do that. Well, sanity waits for no woman. Close me in."

Claire looked in over Gretchen's shoulder. "What do we do if you are still inside his head when dad arrives?"

"Nothing you can do, Pom Pom. In fact I plan on being in there when Noah finally shows. Don't wake me for anything."

"What if we get attacked again?"

Elle shook her head. "That won't happen if I do my job right. And if I don't…well, then there won't be anything left of me to wake up so you guys can run away without feeling bad."

They shared a look. "We'll be here when you come out of it," Gretchen said.

"Good luck, Elle."

She took another deep breath. "Hey, if this doesn't work…thanks for last night…it was nice."

"More than that it—"

"Come back to us," Claire finished.

Elle gave a nod to Gretchen; she swung the little door closed. Darkness pressed against her and the temperature inside seemed to increase dramatically. It was her imagination, she knew. Deep breath in and out.

Elle closed her eyes and focused inward. She thought about the voice that constantly taunted and plagued her. For so long it was something to avoid, to run away from as fast as she could, but now she needed it front and center.

Nicholas had used her, all of her fears and doubts, and now she wanted to take that power back.

"Come on, come on," she mumbled. "Where are you, you little prick?"

_I know what you are doing_, he whispered. _You can't fight me. You can't outthink me because I'm in your head._

"We are going to change that," she said.

Nicholas laughed. _Exactly who do you think you are, Elle Bishop? Have you forgotten what you are?_

"I'm different now. This is my second chance."

__

A pity fuck from a couple of whores and you are a brand new person?

Power roared in Elle's ears. She kept her eyes close but knew blue-white electricity crackled over her hands. She fought to keep her breathing even. _They care about me. I think they could even love me._

The voice changed and sounded like her father again. _Oh, Elle, I never even loved you. I couldn't wait to get rid of you. Why do you think you worked alone?_

_ Noah was right. I always knew it was just a matter of time, a matter of waiting for just the right mission._

Elle tried to control the voice, to make it change back, but instead of taking a firmer hold on it she felt her grip slip. Behind her eyelid the blackness wavered and she was back inside the halls of Level Five. She saw her past self on the ground, Sylar on top and attacking.

Bob was standing beside her, head still cut open and dried blood caking his suit. "It probably should have happened here," he said. "Dumb luck that saved you—same thing that saved you every other time. You were never a good agent, Elle."

She tried to close her eyes in the vision but couldn't stop seeing the memory.

The Elle on the ground tried to get away and screamed when Sylar began to cut. She winced as an echo of the agony from the scene reached her. A sympathetic scar appeared on her forehead.

The image suddenly changed and she was standing inside a Level Five cell. For a moment she thought she was going to turn around and see Peter.

A ball thudded against the wall next to her head. "I can be Peter, if you want," Noah said with a smile. He was clad in the white prison garb the Company had given him when they took him off duty. "I thought this was more appropriate though." The ball rebounded again. "It was when you learned a very important life lesson. Always alone."

"I'm not playing your game," Elle said.

Noah broke scene and threw the ball at her, hard. "Of course you are!" He was on his feet and in her face in a blink. "I'm going to keep you in here, reliving every single horrible moment of your pathetic life. The same way you imprisoned me inside my lifeless body."

Elle sneered at him. "Pardon me for being a crap shot. I meant to send you to the literal hell. I'll do better next time." She turned on her heel and moved to walk from the cell.

But it was already gone and she was standing on a beach at night. It didn't even take a second to realize where she was now. Sylar stood from behind a patch of reeds and began walking toward her. Behind him a body burned in the sand.

Elle stared at it, watching herself go up in flames. She thought back to those bodies in the motel room. Breath hitched in her throat when the smell reached her. She tried to back away but couldn't move.

Sylar stopped in front of her and brushed bangs out of her eyes. "This is where you always end up, Elle. This is where you belong."

"No." Hot tears threatened to spill out of her eyes but she couldn't even move to wipe them away. "I didn't see this—it can't be a memory. I was…this isn't real."

He met her gaze. "Are you sure? Maybe you were still alive, just enough to feel the flames?"

"_No_." She refused to let him implant that memory and struggled for control again. "It didn't happen that way."

The beach was gone and in its place was a living room. Scorch marks marred the walls and ceiling and furniture lay haphazardly around the room. Elle blinked; didn't know where or when she was. She couldn't remember anything bad ever happening to her in a place like this.

Then her past self stepped into the room from a hallway. She was haggard and injured. In her hand was a gun. "Those telepathic hangovers are a bitch," she said, wiping a hand over her forehead.

Elle smiled when she placed the memory. "Now we are playing the mind game!" She looked over the overturned sofa and saw the body of Nicholas Kane prone on the ground. Blood had pooled around his head from a neat little hole just over his right temple.

"This has to be from me," she taunted, "because this was a pretty good moment from the life of Elle Bishop. Pretty sucky one for you."

Behind her past Elle followed the path of memory, leaning hard against the wall and calling a Company clean up team.

The body on the ground suddenly turned to look at her and blinked. "You can't hurt me," he said. "Thanks to your whore I'm past this now."

They shifted again back to the beach. Elle sighed overdramatically. "You know, you should really try and hold off on the nicknames—it is kind of my thing and I don't appreciate impersonations."

Nicholas was still in his original form but with the bullet wound healed now. He looked down at her smoldering remains. "This is pointless, Elle. I can see all your little plans."

She tightened her hands into fists and kept her thoughts under control. Not giving in to panic.

"You think you are going to hold me here, buy time until Noah can get to you and your whores"—He glanced back—"an hour I believe she said?"

Elle refused to let her face give him any sort of answer.

"I already have the blood, Elle. I'll be long gone before your merry band could ever hope to reach me. And then I can play all I want."

Sylar appeared behind her and the scene reversed until he was on top of her past self, ready to kill her again.

Nicholas started to walk away, following the shoreline. "You won't be leaving here, Agent Bishop. In the outside world your body will sit in that little clubhouse until it rots. And until that happens you'll be all mine."

Distantly Elle heard a bang, like gunfire, but it was lost in the crashing of waves. "And how long will that be?" she asked. "I thought you wanted to torture me for years and years. I'll die pretty fast where Johnny has a stupid head."

He stopped and looked at her with a victorious expression. "Time doesn't move the same way here. It's like a dream that feels like hours but is really only minutes."

A rush of confidence filled her. "Or the other way, right? Minutes that are really hours?"

His gaze darkened.

"You see, Nicky-boy," she said, "I figured something out. All this time I was thinking about you and me only one way. That I could only take without giving back. And you spent so much time drilling it into my head that I realized you had overlooked it too. Telepathy is a two way street, and while you might be the driver on it nothing says I can't reach over and jerk the wheel from time to time."

He was frowning now and she felt his thoughts pushing at her mind. For the first time he seemed to find the tiny corner she'd been masking from him since Doe Eyes called Noah to tell him the plan.

Around them the scene shifted and Sylar vanished. It was brighter now and her charred corpse was fully visible just beyond the tide. Past Claire appeared and Elle smiled without looking at her. "I'm over this too. The 'whore' that you think helped you is the same one that saved me…and I was the original."

Claire cried next to Elle's body. For a long while she sat there, staring at the remains, before pulling a syringe from her pocket...

"You have invented this," he said. "This is no memory of yours or mine."

Elle shrugged. "I'm crazy. Who knows what sort of concepts of reality and fiction I have. I kind of like this one." She turned and watched as Claire jabbed the syringe into her own neck and drew a vial of healing blood. "Noah was right, years ago, when he pointed out why my father never gave me a partner. And yesterday his daughter was also right in encouraging me to take one.

"One of us and one of them never applied to me—until now. See I'm not alone any longer. I have people that care about me. Don't ask me why, but they do.

"All this time you've been pushing at me, telling me how worthless and alone I am, when really you were talking about yourself. Because that's what you are, Nick: a mean little man all alone screaming at the top of his lungs hoping someone hears."

Another bang sounded, closer this time, and Nicholas gasped with the suddenness of it. He glanced down and saw a bullet hole in his chest.

Elle watched as her memory self came back to life with Claire holding her. There was no screaming or pain this time. "That blood, by the way, lives outside her body. That's why it cures others and draws itself back into her wounds when healing. And because it is alive, and part of her, it is trackable by Walker."

Two more gunshots rang out and Nicholas Kane dropped to his knees before her, a look of shock on his face.

"Say hi to Noah for me."

The fifth bullet hit him between the eyes and the constructed shared memory flew apart into blackness.

…

…

Noah lowered his gun and stared at the dead man in the raised hospital bed. Several bullets had ruined his chest but the coup de grâce was the hole dead center between his eyes. Blood and brain matter stained his sheets. The monitors beside the bed confirmed what Noah already knew with a long steady tone.

Sighing, he holstered his gun and stepped from the room. Nicholas hadn't opened his eyes or drawn on any of his puppets stationed around the house. Noah's job had been laughably simple. He knew that meant that Elle had fulfilled her side of the plan—she kept him occupied long enough.

Noah idly wondered if Molly was following his progress, if she would know the exact moment he left the location she'd given him and understood that meant Nicholas was gone. He knew of her distaste for this sort of thing and hoped she wasn't watching.

Outside he stopped at one of the bodies of Kane's drones, a small wiry man. He fished inside the dead man's pockets and withdrew the vial of Claire's blood.

_One of us and one of them_, he thought. _Worked every time_.

…

…

She was aware enough to know she was lying on the ground with the warm sun beating down on her. There was the feel of grass and flowers, the smell of dirt, and it had to be a dream. It wasn't a memory, at least not one of hers, because she never lounged like that in a park as a child. Never peeled a leaf while watching clouds float overhead. Daddy said it wasn't safe outside.

Disinfectant, linoleum flooring and fluorescent lighting were the things she associated with her youth.

Wetness touched her lips, splashing against her face. Rain? That wasn't safe either. It hurt her skin when she made her pretty sparks. No, not rain. She could taste salt.

Someone was calling her, begging her to come back to them. _Them_. She had people waiting for her—she remembered that now.

Elle opened her eyes and saw the cheerleader looking down at her. Sunlight caught blonde hair and Elle reached to touch it. "Hey."

"Oh God."

Claire pulled her into a sitting position and hugged her tight. A second set of arms locked around them both. "We thought you were brain dead," Gretchen said over Claire's shoulder. "Do you have any idea how long you were out?"

The fog was beginning to clear from Elle's thoughts. She tugged her arms free and stretched awkwardly. Her entire body felt stiff and sore. "Long enough, apparently."

Claire pulled back first. "So he's really gone? Nicholas is dead?"

"Yeah. And this time it will take."

"You're sure, right?" Gretchen asked. "He's not, you know, hiding in a diary or something?"

Elle shook her head. "I'm sure. No crappy sequel for him. Help me up."

The world tilted dangerously under her feet and Elle took advantage of a girlfriend on either side to remain upright. "Noah?" she asked.

"On his way," Claire said. "He's coming down from New York—where Kane was."

"We should keep moving. Get out of the open."

"Micah will help with any questions or cover ups," Elle said, moving forward. "He is the hotshot kid for rewriting police reports and making evidence go away."

Gretchen laughed. "After these past few days, he's going to _love_ us."

The three women began walking deeper into the park, leaning on each other the whole way.


	13. Epilogue

****

Epilogue

Summer in Baltimore was in full force. Hot and uncomfortable with only brief touches of relief coming from the ocean breeze. People milled about in the afternoon heat, specials and nons, as they went about daily routines.

Elle Bishop watched one special in particular from across the street as he sat in an outdoor café. It had taken Miles Addison a long time to return to the city. After her breakdown in Penn Station he had vanished from the grid entirely and she had been sure he was gone for good.

But the world was full of surprises and one day he surfaced and Micah spotted him and let Elle know. The technopath understood unfinished business.

Elle tucked her sunglasses in the neck of her white t-shirt and started for the café. In her hand was one of the things she'd salvaged from her ruined car several months ago.

Miles didn't notice her until it was too late and she was already in the seat across from him. Her hand clamped down on his sleeve and kept him from bolting. The threat she had made about what her ability could do, and how fast, was obviously still good in his mind.

"What do you want?"

Elle tossed the file folder on the table. "This is from the Company," she said.

Cautiously, he lifted the cover.

"It's your file," she said. "A complete and detailed record of your abduction, tests, and results. If you have any questions about your ability, or holes in your memory, this should help."

"I don't understand."

Elle let him go and stood. "It's yours. Free and clear."

"I…" Miles began flipping through the file. "...Thank you."

"Spread the word among your little group. If they need help, I'll do what I can for them." Elle began walking away.

"So," he called, "are you just going to keep showing up out of the blue like this?"

"Nope." Elle slipped her sunglasses back on. She was on her way back to Arlington. "I'm going home."

****

End


End file.
